Page 26 of Ocean's Whisper

Four attackers converged simultaneously. Nereus launched into the air, staff whistling as he took them all down in a whirlwind of controlled violence. Sweat gleamed on his chest and back, highlighting the sculpted muscles honed through centuries of combat.

Xavier's voice cut through his concentration. "Trying to destroy the training room again?"

Nereus didn't pause his assault as his beta leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "Computer, pause simulation."

The holograms froze mid-attack. Nereus stood in their midst, chest heaving, blood trickling from the few lucky strikes they'd landed.

"She called mecreepy." The words burned his throat. "My Luna."

Xavier's eyebrows shot upward. "The human?"

"Her name is Isolde." Even furious, Nereus couldn't tolerate disrespect toward his Luna. "And she thinks I'm controlling her."

"Aren't you?" Xavier's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "That's what alphas do."

Nereus hurled the staff across the room where it embedded itself into the wall. "Not like that. She thinks I'm some human predator."

"Maybe that's because she ishuman." Xavier pushed away from the doorframe, approaching cautiously. "They don't understand our ways. Their women are taught to fear powerful men."

Nereus ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "She caused a tsunami, X. She could kill everyone on this island without even trying. What am I supposed to do? Let her walk away?"

"The Luna chooses the alpha as much as he chooses her," Xavier reminded him. "You can't force this, no matter how much your wolf demands it."

Nereus closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of the ocean—of Isolde—still clung to him despite the workout. His wolf whined, already missing her presence.

ELEVEN

ISOLDE

Isolde watched Nereus storm off the terrace, his broad shoulders tight with tension, and his footsteps heavy enough that she swore the marble beneath her vibrated. The car keys he had thrown at her glinted in the morning sunlight, scattered across the breakfast table like discarded treasure. She stared at them without reaching out, feeling the weight of his anger lingering in the air.

Henderson, the estate manager, stood at attention nearby, his thin lips pressed into a disapproving line. The older man's salt-and-pepper hair was as perfectly styled as his immaculate suit, but his eyes held something Isolde couldn't quite place—disdain, perhaps? Or fear?

"I don't need his cars," Isolde said, pushing her chair back from the table. The legs scraped against the stone terrace with an unpleasant screech. "Could someone please just drive me back to my houseboat? I have my own car there."

Henderson cleared his throat. "That won't be possible, Miss Morgan."

"Excuse me?" Isolde blinked, genuinely surprised by the blunt refusal.

Henderson turned away, already dismissing her as he prepared to follow after his master.

"Wait." The word burst from her before she could stop herself. Something shifted inside her at his casual dismissal—a flicker of irritation where normally she would have swallowed her discomfort. "That seems a little disrespectful to your Luna, doesn't it?"

Henderson froze mid-step. When he pivoted back toward her, his expression had hardened into something cold and calculating.

"Luna?" His gaze raked over her, from her practical clothing to her sleep-tousled blonde hair. "You are not the pack Luna until the alpha claims you properly, Miss Morgan. Until then, you're just a mere human who knows more than she really should at this point about our pack."

The words stung like salt water on an open wound. Henderson offered a perfunctory bow before rushing off, leaving Isolde alone on the vast terrace.

"Well, happy birthday to me," Isolde muttered, slumping back into her chair.

The ocean stretched beyond the terrace in an endless expanse of blue, matching her eyes but not her mood. She traced a finger along the glass tabletop, digesting Henderson's words. The dismissal struck a familiar chord—how many times had she taken a step back to accommodate others' needs while neglecting her own?

Yet something about this felt different. The way he'd said "mere human" scratched at something new inside her, something that had awakened at midnight along with whatever power had called the wave.

She glanced at the keys on the table. The silver Seafang emblem winked back at her, bearing the image of a wolf with waves cresting behind it.

"Claimed properly?" she whispered, feeling heat rise in her cheeks as she remembered the electric sensations of Nereus's kisses—how her body had responded instantly, almost desperately. "What does that even mean?"

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