Page 49 of Ocean's Whisper

Marina half-dragged, half-carried Isolde off the boat and toward the parking lot where a black SUV waited. The windows were tinted, but Isolde could make out shadowy figures inside.

"My associates," Marina explained, opening the rear door. "Not all wolves are loyal, you know. Some can be bought—or persuaded."

As consciousness slipped away from her, Isolde glimpsed four hulking men in the vehicle, their eyes glinting amber in the fading light—wolf shifters just as Marina had claimed. The drug pulled her under before she could process the betrayal.

Her last coherent thought was of Nereus—his blue eyes, his warmth, his absolute certainty that she belonged with him. She had run from that certainty, and now she might never see him again.

The darkness claimed her completely as the SUV pulled away, carrying her toward an unknown fate.

TWENTY

NEREUS

Nereus's Ducati roared beneath him as he pushed the motorcycle to its limits down the coastal road. The rushing wind whirred in his ears, but it couldn't drown out the thundering of his heart. Fifteen minutes since hanging up with Xavier felt like fifteen hours. Each second that ticked by with Isolde missing ratcheted his anxiety higher.

The mate bond pulsed weakly inside him, a distant lighthouse in an emotional storm. She was alive. That knowledge alone kept him from losing control completely.

He swerved the motorcycle into the marina parking lot, barely taking time to kill the engine before vaulting off. His boots hit the wooden dock with a heavy thud as he sprinted toward Isolde's houseboat. The setting sun sparkled off the water, mocking the darkness spreading through his chest.

"Isolde!" His voice rang out over the lapping of waves against the dock.

The door to her houseboat swung open at his touch—unlocked. His instincts screamed danger as he entered. Everything appeared normal. The small kitchen with its quirky mermaid magnets on the refrigerator, the living area withmarine life books stacked on end tables, and the faint scent of citrus and saltwater that was uniquely hers.

But no Isolde.

"Fuck." The word escaped through his gritted teeth as he moved through the quaint space, his nostrils flaring to catch any trace of an intruder.

A buzzing sound caught his attention. Her phone—sitting abandoned on the coffee table beside a half-empty mug of tea. He picked it up, swiping to see dozens of missed calls. His own name dominated the screen.

He stalked back outside, his eyes scanning the marina. His Aston Martin sat parked where she must have left it, and beside it, her silver Lexus. She hadn't driven anywhere.

He closed his eyes, centering himself. The mate bond flickered like a distant flame—too weak and too far. But present. He focused on her essence, letting his senses expand.

The scent hit him suddenly—faint traces of Isolde carried on the breeze. He followed it down the dock, passing several boats until he reached a sleek, modern two-story houseboat two docks over. The structure gleamed white against the blue water, its windows tinted nearly black.

Isolde's scent intensified here, mingled with something else—fear. His wolf stirred within him, hackles rising at the primal call to protect what was his.

But beneath that, another scent lingered. Female, but nothing human. Ancient. Powerful. Wrong.

Without hesitation, Nereus stripped off his jacket and boots, letting his transformation take him. His bones cracked and reformed, his muscles stretched and shifted, and within seconds, the white and gray wolf with brilliant turquoise eyes stood where the man had been.

In this form, the scents bombarded him with clarity. The foreign female scent carried notes of brine and thunderstorms, of depths beyond human reckoning.

Siren. Witch.The knowledge clicked into place like a key turning in a lock.

Centuries of instinctual hatred flooded his veins. Sirens—the ancient enemies of the Seafang pack, beings who corrupted the waters his kind had sworn to protect. The historical wars between them had nearly wiped out both species before an uneasy truce had been established.

A truce now clearly broken.

The faint pulse of the mate bond confirmed his fears. The fear he sensed from Isolde wasn't panic—it was too subdued, almost dreamlike.Drugged.The realization sent rage coursing through him.

The pieces assembled themselves with brutal clarity. The attack in the secluded cave hadn't been random. His initial suspicions were now confirmed, the attack was part of a bigger plan. This siren had sent those wolves to capture Isolde, and now somehow, the ancient witch had taken his Luna. But where?

Nereus transformed back to his human form, pulling on his clothes with quick, efficient movements. His jaw clenched tightly enough to crack his teeth as he rushed away from the siren’s sleek houseboat.

The mate bond flickered again. Time was running out.

"Hold on, Isolde," he whispered to the wind. "I'm coming."

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