Becoming Luna

5 ~ Kismet

Alexander sees her before she notices him. It’s like fate, and the timing is so perfect that it almost feels rehearsed, even though he has never seen her before. He has just turned, ever so slightly, as he talks to the hotel manager, when he gets a whiff of her clean, floral scent. So natural and feminine he had no choice but to look around. If he had not turned that quarter of an inch, he would have missed it.

Missed her.

She’s walking across the vast foyer of the five star hotel where he’s staying for the duration of the meetings with the applicants to the Alpha King’s Grant. Wearing a formal, all-white ensemble, her outfit looks both elegant and relaxing to the eye. She carries a green folder in one hand, and the overall effect makes her look like a white calla lily.

The only ‘imperfection’ could be her prosthetic leg. Not that it makes her any less beautiful, it’s just…rather jarring to see. One would think she would try to hide it by wearing something less revealing, but no, she wears a pencil-cut skirt that hugs her generous form and carries herself with quiet dignity and unassuming grace. She looks comfortable in her own skin and accessories, which is really attractive.

The leg doesn’t look like it’s slowing her down. He has no idea how she’s doing it but somehow it just makes her strides more intentional, as if she’s marking the world… claiming the territory with each step. There’s a kind of rhythm in her walk, in the sway of her hips maybe, paired with every step she’s taking. Everything about her is disciplined, balanced and confident.

Unapologetic and absolutely gorgeous.

He can’t help but stare. It would seem everyone is just as helpless as he is against her ‘spell’ because all eyes in that foyer seem to follow her too, probably because of her leg, but mostly, in spite of it.

She doesn’t walk like someone demanding attention, no, that is not the case. The lady, in fact, doesn’t carry herself like she’s trying to impress anyone. No over the top high heels, no fanfare. Just clean, soft lines and a quiet presence about her. It’s more of an innate gift of someone who draws eyes on themselves just because. Everyone else seems less sure of themselves in comparison, even when she’s just minding her own business.

There’s something powerful in how she moves but it’s not flashy or loud, just steady and determined. Classy.

Like a female alpha. Or a true Luna, with or without an alpha mate.

He frowns. Well, she’s definitely not just human. Judging from her scent, she’s a wolf shifter. Given his reaction to her, he wonders if she’s his mate.

If only…

He shakes his head, wondering where she’s going. She’s probably here for the Alpha King’s Grant, and a smile begins to form on his lips.

He was planning on skipping today’s meeting out of sheer boredom but things suddenly became interesting. Thoroughly invested now, Alexander watches her until she gets into the elevator that just opened and faces him directly. He catches her gaze, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement that usually comes when one’s wolf recognizes one’s fated mate.

She blinks but doesn’t smile. Not even a little. Just lifts one brow. Curious but distant, only mildly provoked by the creep who held her eyes for several seconds longer than politely acceptable. Then she looks away to punch in the floor number and the doors close, leaving him standing there, heart racing, his whole body electrified by the encounter that didn’t even happen up close, mouth hanging open like he’s just seen something holy. Maybe he has.

A strong, beautiful she-wolf unlike anyone he has ever seen before. Despite the carefully-cultivated exterior, she doesn’t appear hard or cold as a marble statue. Only resilient, the way bamboo trees survive storms. As reliable as stone castles that outlast kings and queens.

Not unyielding, but definitely unbreakable.

It’s unbelievable how he’s already mooning about her like a medieval bard even before actually meeting her. He can’t wait to see her again to find out if this poetic mulch is all in his head.

***********************

Today, she is going to win. She has to.

Like a holy ritual, Siena counts to three before raising her chin. She takes a deep breath before slowly releasing it. As always, the action helps calm her down and sharpens her focus.

She glances at her prosthetic leg, nodding to herself as she silently cheers herself on. There’s no hiding it, so in a short time she has learned to embrace it.

Now she needs to trust it too.

The doors swing open before her and the wind rushes in behind her like it’s trying to catch up before overtaking her. Siena fills her lungs with air, fortifying herself against the task ahead.

There are reflective walls everywhere but she ignores them, not wanting to be distracted. She can feel that her posture is correct, her shoulders relaxed and her back straight, so it should be fine. It still feels unnatural not to be hobbling around with a crutch anymore but she has found her rhythm.

The subtle click of her shoes on the marble floor feels like a punctuation at the end of each step. Every detail matters since the moment she stepped inside this building, so she makes sure her stride is deliberate, measured. Not rushed, never unsure.

The way a dancer owns the stage floor with every turn.

She can feel that people are looking, probably noticing her leg, but she ignores them too, focusing on not limping and instead allowing a subtle sway in her gait. A swing. A secret dance move, the kind that says her body knows how to work it. That she’s earned every step, and she takes none of them for granted.

It’s all just a façade for now, but given enough time, it will be a learned truth.

She heaves a sigh of relief when she reaches an elevator and it’s blessedly empty. Finally she can relax a little and shake off the feeling of being observed. However, to her surprise, someone is still watching her.

Icy blue eyes, the kind that seems to see through your soul, is staring at her from the reception desk. He doesn’t avert his eyes even when she frowns slightly. Instead his pupils seem to dilate, almost drowning the otherworldly color of his irises that are visible even from that distance.

‘Who is that man?’ She wonders, a little rattled. He has some nerve, staring at her in a way that borders on rude and creepy. As if he finds her so very interesting that he intends to stalk her.

Thank goodness Andrew isn’t with her or he might make a scene. She really doesn’t need that right now.

Focus, we're almost there! She takes another deep breath, watching the floor numbers change as the elevator climbs up. This is it. This is her chance to secure her future.

The receptionist smiles in welcome when she arrives. “Miss Siena Merrick?”

She smiles back. “Yes, good afternoon.”

“I will let you know when they’re ready for you. Would you like something to drink while you wait?” She offers kindly.

She blinks. “Oh, uh…just water, please. Thank you.”

The receptionist invites her to sit as she brings her a glass of water, and Siena looks around, observing. She thanks the receptionist for her drink when it finally arrives, and sips demurely, only to almost spit it out when the doors of the elevator open again and the Icy Blue Eyes strides in calmly.

“Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Wolfenheim! We were told you were leaving early—”

He gives the receptionist a charming, dimpled smile. “Change of plans. I can stay to evaluate one more candidate.”

“I will inform the others right away—”

He nods and proceeds inside the room without looking at Siena, but she knows that he is perfectly aware of her being there. It cannot be mere coincidence. According to the receptionist, he isn’t even supposed to be there.

Her heart starts racing, and her apprehension grows when she meets the eye of the nice receptionist who is now busy contacting someone.

“Hello, Georgina?” The receptionist, who is human, speaks in a very low voice, low enough not to be heard by ordinary humans sitting that far away, but Siena’s wolf hearing easily picks up the words. “Please inform Mr. Walkes that he’s here today after all. No, he didn’t say… I would have, but she’s already here… No, I know! Yes, well… anyway, I have to call the others. He’s already waiting for them inside. Yeah, it’s gonna be another bloodbath. Poor girl, she might have had better chances if he weren’t here…”

Siena’s breath hitches as she realizes they were talking about her. She glances at the receptionist. There’s sympathy in the older woman’s eyes, not for Siena’s prosthetic leg, but for her fate as an applicant for the grant.

Her eyes widen in alarm and it takes all her willpower not to stand up and leave right at that very moment. She heard rumors that one of the interviewers is very meticulous and particularly impossible to please. Apparently, that tough customer is him.

Mr. Wolfenheim said he had time for one more candidate…

Siena’s the only applicant waiting right now.