Page 27 of Ocean's Whisper

The breeze suddenly picked up. In the distance, waves began to crest higher, whitecaps forming where moments before the water had been calm. Isolde took a deep breath, willing herself to relax, and to her amazement, the waves seemed to settle.

"So it is true," she murmured, staring at her hands as if they might suddenly reveal the secret of her connection to the water.

What did it mean to be Luna to a pack of wolf-people she had just learned existed? What did it mean that she, a human, could suddenly control water? And what exactly did "claiming" entail?

A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze and everything to do with the memory of Nereus's intense gaze, the way his muscled body had moved with predatory grace, and the commanding rumble of his voice.

She stood and snatched the keys from the breakfast table, curling her fingers around the cold metal until it bit into her palm. If Nereus thought giving her a car meant she'd play docile little Luna, he had another thing coming. The car keys jingled as she strode through the castle, her sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floors.

After several wrong turns and one embarrassing encounter with a young housekeeper who looked at her like she'd crawled out from under a rock, Isolde found the east garage. She pressed the key fob, following the responsive beep to a sleek, silver Aston Martin that gleamed under the garage lights.

"Holy crap," she whispered, running her fingers along the smooth hood. "That's one way to apologize for overstepping."

The leather seat hugged her curves as she slid behind the wheel. The engine purred to life, sending a vibration through her body that felt almost intimate. For a moment, she satthere, gripping the steering wheel and absorbing the luxury that surrounded her.

"This car probably costs more than my entire education," she muttered, pressing buttons until the GPS screen illuminated.

As she navigated through the castle's winding driveway, she was struck by the sheer size of Nereus's territory. In the daylight, the sovereign land sprawled before her like something from a fairy tale—acres of manicured lawns giving way to pristine beaches on one side and dense forest on the other.

The GPS directed her onto a main road that cut through a small, self-contained town. Quaint storefronts with names like "Seafang Supplies" and "Lunar Bistro" lined the streets. Children—potential wolf children?—played in a park outside a school building whose architecture mirrored the castle's Gothic elements.

"It's like he's running his own little country," Isolde marveled, slowing to observe a group of impossibly fit men and women jogging in perfect synchronization. "Wolf boot camp? Or just morning exercise?"

The town gave way to a security checkpoint where, to her surprise, the guards simply waved her through after a glance at the car. The atmosphere changed immediately as she crossed the border between Nereus's territory and the rest of the island—less pristine, more lived-in, and more human.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she directed the car toward the northern tip of the island where the research station—her workplace, her second home—had stood. The ocean came into view on her right, sunlight dancing across its surface. Was it her imagination, or did the waves reach a little higher as she drove past as if greeting her?

About a mile from the site, orange cones blocked the road. Men in hard hats and safety vests directed traffic away from thearea. A sign proclaimed: "PRIVATE RESTORATION WORK IN PROGRESS—AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY."

Isolde pulled to the shoulder, killing the engine. Through the windshield, she could see heavy equipment already at work in the distance, clearing debris. The efficiency was impressive—Nereus certainly hadn't wasted any time.

Part of her wanted to march up to the barricade and demand access. After all, that was her lab and her research. But another part—a new part that had awakened when the wave crashed down—whispered caution.

After several minutes of sitting in the car on the shoulder, Isolde's patience evaporated. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel, each tap punctuated by a fresh wave of frustration.

"I caused this," she whispered, eyeing the distant cranes and bulldozers. "I should be helping fix it."

With sudden resolve, she pushed open the car door and marched toward the barricade. The ocean breeze caught her hair, whipping it across her face as she approached the two men in hard hats guarding the entrance.

"Excuse me," she called, summoning her most professional voice—the same one she used when addressing skeptical academic panels. "I need access to the site."

The taller of the two men gave her a cursory glance. "Sorry, ma'am. Area's restricted."

"I understand that, but I'm Dr. Isolde Morgan. I'm a marine biologist with the research station." She gestured toward the devastation beyond. "That's my workplace."

The second man shook his head. "Orders are orders. Nobody gets through except personnel from Varon Industries."

"Look, I'm the Luna of the Seafang pack," she blurted out, immediately regretting the words as they fell from her lips.

The men exchanged confused glances.

"The what now?" the taller one asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.

"The Luna," she repeated, heat rising in her cheeks. "I'm... I'm Prince Nereus's mate."

The shorter man snorted. "Lady, I don't know what you're talking about, but unless you've got credentials from Varon Industries, you're not getting past this point."

Irritation flared inside Isolde, sharp and hot like a sudden fever. Who was Nereus to deny her access to her own workplace? What right did he have to swoop in and take control when it was her research at stake?

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