Page 7 of Ocean's Whisper

As he approached, the pull inside his chest intensified to an almost painful degree. Even before he reached her, he knew—this was his Luna. The ocean's magic had found her before he could and had swept her away from land, testing them both.

"Hey," Nereus called, treading water beside her. "Can you hear me?"

No response. Her face was slack, peaceful almost, despite the dire circumstances. Water lapped at her curves, her clothes clinging to her body in a way that momentarily distracted him. She was striking—full breasts and generous hips that appealed to his wolf's ancient preferences. But more pressing was the fact that she wasn't conscious.

"Wake up." He grasped her shoulder, giving it a firm shake. Nothing.

He tried to position her arms around his neck, planning to swim them both back to shore. "Work with me here," he muttered as her limbs refused to cooperate, sliding back into the water.

Each time he attempted to secure her, she slipped farther beneath the surface. His frustration mounted—he was the Alpha of the Seafangs, commanding hundreds of wolves across his Northeast territory. He wouldn't be defeated by something as simple as rescuing one unconscious woman.

"Come on," he snarled, watching her slide underwater again. The ocean seemed to be challenging him, testing whether he was worthy of his mate.

There was only one solution. With a grunt of resignation, Nereus released his grip on humanity. His bones cracked and reshaped, muscles twisting and reforming as fur sprouted across his body. His clothes tore away, carried off by the current as his wolf form emerged—larger than any natural wolf, with a thick coat of salt-and-pepper fur that repelled water efficiently.

The transformation complete, he dove beneath the surface. His powerful jaws gently closed around the back of her shirt, and with his strong neck, he pulled her up onto the floating board. His wolf form's swimming capabilities far exceeded his human limitations. With her balanced on the board, he pushed it forward with his muzzle, swimming alongside.

The journey back to shore took nearly an hour, fighting currents that seemed determined to pull them back out to sea. By the time his paws touched sand, exhaustion weighed every limb. This stretch of beach was deserted, far from where he had left the scientists.

He dragged her fully onto the shore, careful not to scratch her with his claws. In the moonlight, he could see her chest rising and falling shallowly. She was alive, but still unconscious. He nudged her cheek with his muzzle, her skin cool against his fur. No response.

With a low growl, he shifted back to human form, his bones cracking and rearranging once more until he stood naked beside her, water droplets sliding down his muscled torso.

"Wake up," he demanded, kneeling beside her. Her face remained passive, her long blonde hair tangled around features that even in unconsciousness conveyed both strength and gentleness.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the faint pulse of magical energy beneath her skin. So this was his Luna—the one the ocean had delivered to him on the tide of her own awakeningpower. The connection between them hummed like an electric current, undeniable and ancient.

"You've caused quite a bit of trouble already," he said, brushing wet strands of hair from her face.

He then pressed his fingers to the woman's neck, finding a weak pulse that faltered beneath his touch. Her skin had started to take on the ghostly pallor that spoke of too much time in cold water, her lips tinged with blue.

She suddenly stopped breathing.

"Don't you dare die on me," he growled.

The primal pull of their mate bond still thrummed in his veins, impossible to ignore. A trio of centuries of waiting, and he had found her only to lose her? Unacceptable.

He tilted her head back, pinching her nose shut with one hand while the other lifted her chin. Without hesitation, he sealed his mouth over hers, breathing life into her still lungs. Her lips were cold, salty with ocean water, yet the contact sent a jolt of electricity surging through his body.

He pulled back, watching her chest rise with his breath, then fall without response. Again he breathed for her, counting the seconds, demanding that she live with each exhale.

"Breathe," he commanded between breaths, his voice rough with an unfamiliar emotion.

On the fifth breath, her body jerked beneath his hands. She convulsed, coughing violently as seawater spewed from her mouth. He quickly rolled her onto her side, supporting her as she purged the ocean from her lungs.

"That's it," he murmured, his hand steady on her back. "Get it all out."

Her coughing subsided to ragged gasps, and he finally got his first proper look at her face filled with color. The sight stole the breath from his own lungs.

She was exquisite. High cheekbones framed eyes currently shut in distress. Her lips, no longer blue but a natural pink, were full and soft. Golden hair, though tangled with sand and seaweed, cascaded around her shoulders. Even soaked and half-drowned, she possessed an ethereal beauty that made his wolf stir restlessly beneath his skin.

But as her eyes fluttered open revealing irises the exact color of a stormy sea—he froze in shock.

Human. She was unmistakably, completely human.

The realization hit him like a speeding train. How could his Luna be human? His entire life, he had avoided entanglements with humans. Their fragile lives and limited understanding made them poor matches for wolf royalty. Every Luna in Seafang history had been wolf-born, awakening to her power on her thirtieth birthday like clockwork.

Yet here she was, radiating Luna energy so potent, he could practically taste it on the air, wrapped in a completely human package.

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