Bound by Instinct

Treading the Line: Desires

The next few days passed in a blur of routine, but Andre’s words refused to leave Mira’s mind. Above me. The audacity of it. The temptation of it.

She tried to bury it beneath her duties—preparing the Packhouse for Alayna’s endless social events, making sure the staff stayed in line, ensuring the house ran like a well-oiled machine. But Andre was everywhere. Watching. Smirking. Studying her like a puzzle he was determined to solve.

And worse, she could feel the weight of his gaze.

It was late one evening when she found herself alone in the dimly lit study, sorting through financial records Alayna had carelessly discarded. Mira had long since learned that if she didn’t handle these things, they simply wouldn’t get done.

The door clicked shut.

She didn’t have to look up to know it was him.

“What are you up to now, office manager?” Andre’s voice was smooth as silk, dark as sin.

Mira exhaled through her nose. “If you’re here to taunt me, you can save yourself the trouble.”

“I’m here to understand,” he corrected, stepping deeper into the room. “You have the mind of a strategist, the discipline of a leader, and yet you let them treat you like a servant.”

Mira finally lifted her gaze, meeting his with cool detachment. “You assume I let them.”

Andre’s amber eyes gleamed in the low light. “Then why don’t you stop them?”

Her fingers tightened around the papers in her hands. Because if I push too far, they’ll take everything from me. Because she was still bound—still claimed—by a mate who had cast her aside without severing the bond. There were just too many things at stake.

But Andre didn’t know that.

And she wasn’t about to tell him.

Instead, she placed the papers down carefully. “You speak of power as if it’s something easily taken.”

“It is.” His confidence was infuriating. “Power isn’t given. It’s seized.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “And you think submitting to you would somehow put me back on top?”

Andre smirked, stepping closer, forcing her to tilt her chin up to hold his gaze. “Not submitting. Dominating.”

Her breath caught despite herself.

“Imagine it, Mira,” he murmured, circling her now, his presence a dark heat at her back. “No more scraping by. No more answering to people who don’t deserve your respect. No more kneeling.”

Her throat went dry. “You assume I have the desire for control.”

“I know you do.” His voice was a whisper against her ear. “I see it in the way you carry yourself. The way you watch people. You’re built to command.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “And what? You’re just offering yourself up for me to use?”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “I’m offering you a taste of what it means to own someone instead of being owned.”

Mira turned, her pulse pounding. “You don’t even know me.”

Andre lifted a hand, slowly, deliberately, trailing his fingers along the edge of her jaw. “Not yet.”

The moment stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.

Then she stepped back, putting distance between them.

“No.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—something like satisfaction. As if he expected that answer. As if he enjoyed the game.

He inclined his head. “For now.”

Then, with a lazy smirk, he turned and strode toward the door.

Before he left, he glanced back over his shoulder. “But you will think about it.”

And damn him—damn him to hell—because he was right.

****

Mira tried to forget the conversation with Andre. She threw herself into her work, ignored the way his words lingered in her mind like an unshakable scent, and focused on surviving another day in the Packhouse.

But Andre? He wasn’t the type to be ignored.

His presence was a constant reminder of the game he was playing. A slow, deliberate pursuit, like a predator circling its prey. And worse—Mira wasn’t sure who was hunting whom.

----

The Packhouse was hosting a formal dinner that evening—one of Alayna’s ridiculous attempts to flaunt her status. Mira had spent the entire day ensuring everything was perfect: the long mahogany dining table polished, the candles lit, the wine glasses crystal clear.

As the guests arrived, Mira lingered in the background, watching. It was the safest place to be.

And then Andre walked in.

Dressed in a tailored black suit, he looked effortlessly powerful. The confidence in his stride, the slight smirk as his eyes scanned the room—it was enough to make her pulse jump.

Then his gaze landed on her.

The smirk deepened.

Mira turned away quickly, pretending to adjust a place setting, but she felt him move closer.

“You clean up well,” he murmured beside her, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

“I’m not here to be noticed,” she replied, her tone clipped.

“Too bad.” His fingers barely brushed the small of her back, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver up her spine. “Because I notice everything about you.”

Before she could respond, Alayna’s voice rang out, saccharine-sweet. “Mira, darling! Be a dear and bring us another bottle of wine, won’t you?”

Mira’s jaw clenched. The way Alayna dismissed her, as if she were nothing more than a servant, was infuriating—but expected.

She moved toward the kitchen without a word, but Andre followed.

The moment they were alone, she whirled on him. “You need to stop this.”

He leaned against the counter, casual, unfazed. “Stop what?”

“Whatever game you think you’re playing,” she hissed. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand,” he challenged, crossing his arms.

She hesitated.

How could she explain that she was still bound to his father? That despite being discarded, she couldn’t leave, couldn’t claim her rank, couldn’t be free without consequences?

Instead, she said, “This isn’t a game to me, Andre.”

Something shifted in his expression. “Neither is it to me.”

The weight of those words settled between them.

She exhaled sharply. “I have nothing to offer you.”

His lips curved into something dangerous. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Mira turned away, grabbing the wine bottle, but he stepped closer, his breath warm against her neck. “I meant what I said, Mira. You weren’t meant to kneel.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. “And what about you? Do you kneel?”

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. “For the right person? Gladly.”

The room suddenly felt too small. Too warm.

She turned to face him, gripping the bottle like it was the only thing grounding her. “You don’t even know who I am.”

Andre studied her, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. “Then tell me.”

Silence stretched between them.

Mira shook her head. “You should go back to your dinner.”

For a moment, she thought he might press further, but then he smirked again, stepping back. “For now.”

Then, just as he reached the door, he glanced over his shoulder.

“But when you’re ready to stop pretending you don’t want this? You know where to find me.”

Mira gritted her teeth as he walked away, leaving her breathless, furious—

And worst of all… tempted.