The Rogue Alpha's Detective Mate

Not quit right...

Desmond Loupe

The moment Dorian Voss stepped out to greet them, Desmond's instincts screamed that something was off. The air seemed thick with an overwhelming wave of cologne that assaulted his senses and made his nose itch uncontrollably. His wolf recoiled, its hackles rising at the cloying scent that seemed too heavy, too much for any human to wear without hiding something. Desmond’s gaze narrowed as he studied Voss, a man who's every movement seemed practiced but too deliberate. There was something lurking beneath that carefully cultivated veneer of calm.

He watched the way Voss’ eyes flicked around the room, restless and unsure, as if he was waiting for something—an opportunity, perhaps. When they questioned him, Desmond observed the subtle twitches of his body language, the way his hands fidgeted, fingers drumming on the edge of the counter as they asked him about Stacy Morton’s murder. His lips parted slightly, stammering an apology when he rushed to the bathroom to relieve himself, his face pale, his eyes wide with confusion. Desmond, however, wasn’t convinced. The reaction seemed far too genuine, too emotional. If this man were the killer, why would he react with such fear, such physical distress? It didn’t add up.

And yet, there was something else that gnawed at him—a nagging sense of wrongness that had nothing to do with the murder itself.

Desmond’s attention snapped back to Voss as he reentered the room, eyes darting around again, clearly unsettled. It was not the reaction of a murderer, but there was an intensity in his gaze, an undercurrent of hunger as his eyes lingered just a moment too long on Cassandra. The way his gaze traced the outline of her features, the subtle curve of her lips, the way he let his eyes linger too long on her neck—it was unmistakable. Voss was flirting, and it wasn’t just the casual, polite flirting that people did when trying to charm someone; no, this was predatory. Desmond could feel his wolf bristle with annoyance, that primal urge to protect what was his screaming inside him.

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as his heart rate picked up. The bastard didn’t even try to hide it. Desmond wanted nothing more than to stride over there, grab Voss by the collar, and toss him out the door. He wasn’t some teenager toying with a crush; he was Cassandra’s partner, and more importantly, he was her mate.

But there was something deeper that stopped him. Something he couldn’t explain to anyone, not even to himself. It wasn’t just about jealousy. It was about the bond, the connection that neither of them could yet fully understand. He wasn’t just some guy watching a woman he cared about; no, this was different. He was her protector, her other half, and his wolf didn’t take kindly to any man looking at her with such blatant desire.

Desmond took a steadying breath. He couldn’t react. Not now. Not here. As a detective, he had to maintain control, remain professional, even if his instincts were telling him to act otherwise. And even if Cassandra was the most perfect human being he’d ever met. The truth was, he hadn’t come to Inwood, Manhattan, for her. He’d transferred here for a fresh start, to embrace the work he loved—being a detective. Finding Cassandra had been an unexpected bonus, one he had no idea how to navigate. She wasn’t ready for the truth, not yet, and he wasn’t about to force it on her before she even knew him.

He glanced sideways at her, watching her expression shift as she reassured Dorian Voss, her voice smooth and calming. She handed him a business card, offering him a sense of closure in the moment, and Desmond admired the way she handled herself. She was so much stronger than she realized, so much more capable than most people ever gave her credit for. She was sharp, calculating—he could see it in the way her eyes darted between Voss and the room, always analyzing, always taking in the smallest details. And even though Desmond was sure she didn’t yet see him as anything more than her colleague, he couldn’t help but feel protective of her.

As Voss stammered through a weak apology, Desmond noticed Cassandra’s face soften for a moment, but only for a fleeting second. She, too, was trying to make sense of the man in front of them. His story didn’t match up completely, but neither did his emotional response. Desmond’s gut still told him there was something not quite right, even if Voss wasn’t the killer they were hunting.

Dorian Voss looked like a man who had something to hide, but what that was, Desmond couldn’t yet put a finger on.

"Let’s find this Melanie Walker," Cassandra said as she turned away from the door, pulling her coat tighter against the brisk wind. She sounded weary, but determined. “See what she knows.”

Desmond nodded in agreement, but his thoughts were already racing ahead, sorting through the possibilities. But Cassandra’s presence, the soft way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the focused way she moved—everything about her captivated him. The case, the mystery, the killer—it all seemed secondary compared to the thought of getting closer to her. To knowing her.

She held up her empty coffee cup, shaking it as she glanced at him. “We’re stopping for coffee first.”

Desmond couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound low and soft. Despite the tension of the case, despite the complications in his personal life, there was something so effortlessly natural about Cassandra. Her slight coffee addiction made her all the more endearing. He imagined it would be easy to spoil her—give her whatever she wanted, be whatever she needed. His wolf growled in agreement, urging him to indulge in the need to please her.

“Coffee it is,” he grinned, flashing her a playful wink.

The flush on her cheeks was instantaneous, a soft pink spreading over her fair skin. Desmond’s heart skipped a beat. She was perfect in every way. It wasn’t just her beauty, or her intelligence, or the way she carried herself with such grace. It was the way she unknowingly drew him in, as though every part of him was meant to be beside her. She wasn’t just his partner—she was his mate, and he was determined to show her the kind of partner he could be, both at work and outside of it.

They slid into the car, the engine rumbling to life as Desmond pulled into traffic. The conversation between them remained light at first, a few casual comments about the weather, the people they’d seen in the office, and the peculiarities of their morning coffee runs. But as they navigated through the bustling streets of Inwood, the weight of the case settled back in, and the tension between them shifted. Cassandra turned in her seat, her eyes scanning the city around them, but her mind clearly wasn’t in the scenery.

"So, what do you think of Voss?" Cassandra asked after a few beats of silence, her voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of curiosity. She wasn’t one to leave things unsaid for long.

Desmond exhaled slowly, trying to find the right words. “I’m not sure. He seems... off, but I can’t pinpoint why. He definitely seemed rattled by the news about Stacy Morton. But I don’t know if that makes him innocent. His reaction felt... real, but a little too much.” He paused, watching her carefully from the corner of his eye. “It’s like he’s hiding something. Something more than just shock.”

Cassandra was quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered his words. “I got the same feeling,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “He didn’t seem entirely comfortable. But there’s something else, too. Like he wasn’t just reacting to the news... like he was caught off guard, but also... not. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“I get what you mean,” Desmond replied, glancing at her now, his voice lowered as if speaking too loudly might cause them to miss something important. “His eyes kept darting around, like he was trying to come up with a story on the spot. But I can’t tell if that’s because he’s guilty... or if it’s something else. Maybe he’s just scared of the situation. Or maybe he’s scared of something else entirely.”

Cassandra shifted in her seat, tapping her fingers on the coffee cup. “I feel like we’re missing something. Maybe this Melanie Walker will give us more of the picture. We can’t afford to overlook anyone at this point.”

Desmond nodded. “Agreed. Even though Voss doesn’t fit the typical profile of a killer, we can’t rule him out just yet. We have to follow every lead.” He let his gaze settle on the road ahead, his thoughts swirling. “I’ve seen too many cases where someone seemed completely innocent at first, only to turn out to be hiding something darker.”

Cassandra sighed, her fingers still drumming against the cup as her gaze turned inward. "Yeah, it’s always the ones you least suspect. But something about Voss just doesn’t sit right. I’ll admit, I was watching him closely, too. It’s not just his reaction—it’s the way he kept looking at me. It wasn’t subtle. It was... unnerving."

Desmond’s wolf snarled at the thought of another man looking at his mate like that, but he kept his focus on the conversation, pushing his protectiveness aside. "We’ll figure this out," he said, trying to reassure her. "We’ll get to the bottom of it. Just take it one step at a time."

Cassandra glanced over at him, her eyes searching his face. There was a slight hesitation in her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable. “I trust you,” she said, the words simple but loaded with meaning. She paused for a moment, then added, “But I don’t know if I trust him.”

Desmond gave her a reassuring smile. “That’s why we’re here together, right? To figure it out.”

She nodded, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The bond between them was growing, even if neither of them fully understood it yet. It was more than just a professional partnership—it was something deeper, something undeniable.

As they turned onto a side street, heading toward the coffee shop, Desmond couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection for the woman beside him. No matter how complicated things got, he was determined to keep her safe, to keep their connection intact, and to ensure that, whatever came next, they would face it together.