Isolde nodded slowly. "And the attackers in the cave?"
"I couldn't possibly know?—"
"Was it someone from the pack? Someone who doesn't want Nereus to claim me?"
Mira placed the towels down and moved toward the door. "You should discuss this with the alpha when he returns."
"Of course. Thank you, Mira."
When the door closed, Isolde felt the weight of her situation press down on her. She was expected to be this powerful Luna, yet the pack wouldn't accept her until Nereus officially claimed her, and Nereus wouldn't claim her until... what? Until she was ready? Until she proved herself to the pack? Meanwhile, she was letting her identity, her independence, just slip away.
"No more," she said firmly. "I need some balance and space." Besides, as long as she was on the water, she could protect herself from just about anything. She was a Luna, for crying out loud.
The ocean outside responded to her resolve, waves smoothing into gentle ripples. Isolde smiled. At least one relationship in her life was improving.
She slipped out of the castle without telling anyone. She needed space from Nereus, from the pack, and from the constant pressure of becoming someone she didn't fully recognize yet. The weight of her new identity pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe within those stone walls.
The silver Aston Martin purred to life as she started the ignition. It felt defiantly good to take his most ostentatious car. "Fastest in my collection," he had said with that infuriatingly sexy half-smile. She hadn't understood at the time why his arrogance both irritated and aroused her—but now she recognized it as the confidence of an alpha who had spent centuries getting his own way.
"Not tonight," she muttered, revving the engine and peeling out of the castle's garage with more speed than necessary.
The coastal highway stretched before her like a ribbon of freedom. She rolled down the windows, letting the salty air whip her hair into wild tangles. The ocean paralleled her drive, its rhythmic waves seeming to pace her journey home. Home—the word felt strange now. After just a week, her houseboat already felt like a relic from someone else's life.
"Dr. Isolde Morgan," she said aloud, testing the sound of her professional title. "Marine biologist. Defender of coral reefs. Researcher of cetacean migration patterns."
Those identities felt clearer, more solid than "Luna of the Seafang pack" or "mate to Prince Nereus." She flexed her fingers on the steering wheel, remembering how those same hands hadonce carefully collected water samples and tagged endangered sea turtles in her college days.
"I spent three years tracking migration patterns of sperm whales," she reminded herself. "I published in the Journal of Marine Sciences. I have a life—a real one."
The memory of her research made her smile. She had been on the verge of a breakthrough regarding sperm whale feeding habits regulating the ocean's nutrient cycle just before her birthday. Would she ever get back to that work? Could she balance being Luna with being a scientist?
"You're not just his," she told her reflection in the rearview mirror. "You had a purpose before him."
The speedometer crept higher as memories of her former life flooded back. Sunrise boat launches with her research team. Late nights analyzing data while anchored in her houseboat, the gentle rocking lulling her into a state of perfect concentration. The triumph of securing grant money for her conservation projects.
Her new phone buzzed insistently on the passenger seat. Nereus's name flashed on the screen, accompanied by a photo she'd sneakily taken of him staring out at the ocean, his profile sharp against the sunset. She ignored it.
"You don't get to dictate my every move," she said to the ringing phone. "I'm not some puppet you can control."
The phone fell silent, only to start buzzing again seconds later.
She sighed. That was Nereus—persistent, demanding, and unwilling to accept being ignored. Part of her admired his relentlessness. The same quality that made him impossible to refuse also made him an exceptional leader.
The ocean beside her churned slightly, responding to her conflicted emotions. With a deep breath, she calmed herself, watching the waters smooth in response.
"At least I'm getting better at that," she murmured, pride warming her chest.
As the familiar turnoff to her houseboat approached, Isolde felt a pang of longing for the simple life she'd had before her birthday. A life without pack politics, without people hating her because she was human, or an overwhelmingly attractive wolf shifter who looked at her like she hung the moon.
"Just one night," she said to herself. "One night to remember who Isolde Morgan really is."
Her hands trembled as she guided the sleek Aston Martin along the worn dock path toward her houseboat. The expensive vehicle looked absurdly out of place beside her weathered but beloved floating home and her used silver Lexus. She cut the engine, letting silence wash over her as the gentle lapping of water against the hull filled the emptiness.
"Home," she whispered, her voice breaking on that single syllable.
Her houseboat swayed slightly in greeting as she stepped onto the deck. Unlike Nereus's castle with its imposing stone walls and formal staff, this place was truly hers decorated with colorful throw pillows, shelves overflowing with marine biology texts, and windowsills lined with shells she had collected over the years.
She ran her fingers along the sun-bleached handrail, remembering countless mornings spent right here with coffee in hand, watching dolphins play in the dawn light. The familiar scent of salt mixed with old wood enveloped her, bringing a wave of tears.