Page 17 of Craved By the Werewolf
My phone rang. Front desk.
"Alpha? Ms. Nightingale just arrived at the main gate."
The words sent an unwelcome jolt through my system. She was here. On my territory. The possessive satisfaction that thought brought should have been concerning, but I pushed it aside.
"Send Jax to escort her in," I said.
"You're nervous," Raina observed after I hung up.
"I'm focused."
"Uh-huh. That's why you've been pacing for the last ten minutes." She checked her tablet. "Liam's got all the permits ready, Lana brought enough Haven House documentation to start her own library, and Mika keeps making comments about 'watching the sparks fly.' I think she means it literally and figuratively."
Before I could respond with something appropriately Alpha-like and intimidating, the building's lights dimmed for just a moment. A controlled pulse that rippled through the electrical system like a greeting.
"Malrik's getting impatient," Raina noted. "You ready for this?"
Absolutely not. I shot her a look.
The walk to the conference room should have been straightforward. Should have given me time to center myself, to slip back into the controlled persona I wore like armor. Instead, I found myself thinking about sleepless nights and viral videos, about the way Vala's pulse had spiked when I'd leaned closer to the microphone.
I could hear voices as we approached the conference room—Lana's warm laughter, Kai's teasing commentary, Mika's pointed observations about "professional chemistry." Through the glass walls, I could see them all arranged around the table: Liam with his perfectly organized council documents, Lana surrounded by colorful Haven House files, Kai fiddling with backup cables for the AV equipment.
And Malrik, lounging in his chair like he owned the place, dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. The lights above him pulsed in a slow, steady rhythm—not erratic or destructive, but controlled. Deliberate. A demonstration of power held perfectly in check.
"Showoff," I muttered.
"Always," Raina agreed. "But he's our showoff, and he's damn good at what he does."
The conversation died the moment I stepped into the room. Lana looked up with a warm smile, raising her coffee mug in greeting. "Thorne! Ready to plan the event of the year?"
"Prepared, as always," I replied, taking my usual seat at the head of the table.
"Speaking of event," Kai said, gesturing at his laptop screen, "the internet is still losing its collective mind over your radio promo. #NightAlpha is trending again this morning."
I felt my jaw tighten. "NightAlpha?"
"The ship name, you know...relationship." Mika supplied helpfully, looking far too entertained by my discomfort. "Combination of Nightingale and Alpha. Very romantic. The fans are eating it up."
Liam cleared his throat diplomatically. "Perhaps we should focus on the official matters first? The Council needs our final security protocols by?—"
He was interrupted by the conference room door opening. Vala stepped in, and the entire dynamic of the room shifted.
She was wearing dark jeans and a soft gray sweater, her hair slightly mussed like she'd been running her hands through it. There was a small coffee stain on her sleeve, and faint shadows under her eyes that spoke of a sleepless night. She should have looked tired, disheveled, ordinary.
Instead, she looked magnificent.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, her voice carrying that familiar smoky quality that had been haunting my thoughts. "Traffic was a nightmare, and my coffee maker decided to stage a rebellion."
"No problem," Lana said warmly. "We were just getting started. Coffee's on the side table if you need a refill."
"You're a lifesaver." Vala moved toward the coffee station, and I found myself tracking every step. When she passed behind my chair, I caught her scent—floral and something uniquely her that made my wolf stir restlessly.
Malrik's dark eyes followed her movement with obvious appreciation. "Ms. Nightingale. A pleasure to finally meet you in person."
The lights dimmed slightly—not a flicker, but a smooth, controlled shift that somehow managed to be both greeting and warning.
Vala paused in pouring her coffee, glancing up at the ceiling with interest rather than concern. "You must be Malrik. I've heard fascinating things about your... talents."
