Captain Wolf's Surrogate

CHAPTER 2: THE GREEN-EYED GIRL

LYALL

The interview with the ESPN reporter was nearing its end when I felt it, like a hook sinking deep into my chest and yanking hard.

I turned at the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling my name with the polished politeness I was used to, but the moment my head moved, the world stopped.

My gaze fixed on hers, and the green eyes were as wide and stricken as I felt. The girl stood a few paces behind the reporter, half-hidden by another that I assumed was her friend, but she might as well have been standing in a spotlight.

Everything else, the noise of the training camp, the clicking cameras, the shouts from coaches on the field, all faded into a dull roar. All I could hear was her heart roaring as it quickly synchronized with mine, and I'd never felt anything like it.

It wasn’t just attraction, but a soul-consuming want that flooded every vein in my body. It was pure, undeniable need, and my wolf surged forward inside me, whining in a way he never had before, not even in the early days with Sable.

This wasn't just different, it was violent in its intensity and my skin prickled. For a second, I forgot how to breathe and I had no idea what the hell I was feeling, only that I wanted her.

No, I needed her like air.

As a werewolf, scents had always hit me instantly, and every person carried their own signature, but they were all distinctly human.

But not her…

Goddess, she smelled like.... home, so achingly familiar, I felt as if I'd known her my entire life and simply forgot until this exact moment.

Her sweet scent permeated my soul, drowning out the salty coastal breeze and the artificial turf smell of the facility, and I couldn’t look away.

The world shrank down to her green eyes, the soft curve of her mouth that parted in surprise, and the way her golden hair caught the California sun.

My hands itched to reach for her. And Storm, my wolf, paced restlessly inside me, urging me closer. His possessiveness over her slammed into me, unbidden and terrifying in its certainty and impossibility.

We had a fated mate. What the hell was happening to us?

The girl stumbled just then, as though she could also feel the raging storm inside me. Her hand flew to her stomach, her face paling, while her knees buckled as if hit by the same invisible force.

I didn’t even feel myself move. One moment, I was frozen under that tent. The next, I was at her side, my arms wrapping around her with supernatural speed I wasn’t sure I’d successfully contained.

She was lighter than I expected, warm and trembling against me, and my wolf howled in recognition just as her sweet voice cut through our predicament.

"Thank you," she whispered shakily.

Her breath brushed my collarbone, and for one perfect heartbeat, she leaned into me before pushing away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I wanted to tell her she didn't have to feel embarrassed; I wanted to say something, anything.

But the words wouldn't come and instead, I watched helplessly as she turned and ran into the crowd, leaving me standing there with my arms still half-extended.

I stared after her retreating figure as she vanished between clusters of fans and staff, before the trance broke and reality returned.

Cameras flashed like crazy all around me, while my teammates shouted my name. Louis, my closest friend and the only one who knew what I really was, jogged over with wide eyes.

“Are you good, man?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t.

My entire body tingled with electricity dancing beneath my skin. My wolf was still frantic, clawing to catch up with her, and I could still feel the ghost of her warmth against my chest, as well as smell that impossible scent in the air.

The young woman who had first called my name took a step forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she recovered from what had just happened. She fixed her hair quickly and flashed a bright, practiced smile.

“Oh my gosh, Captain Wolf, Lyall… I’m your biggest fan. Teagan Hughes of the Stanford Daily. Could I ask you a few questions for the paper? It’s for the NFL 60 feature.”

Before I could respond, Louis clapped me on the shoulder and answered for me with a grin.

“Of course you can. Please fire away. Captain Wolf here would love to answer your questions.” He then leaned in close, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“What the hell was that, man? Are you sure you’re okay?”

I gave him a tight nod, forcing myself back to the present. The cameras were still rolling, and I couldn’t afford to look rattled, especially over a woman.

Teagan launched into her questions, notebook ready, her voice professional but laced with that same sugary tone she’d used earlier.

I answered on autopilot, talking about the upcoming season, the honor of representing the NFL 60 campaign, and how training camp in Oxnard always felt like coming home to my California roots.

I smiled for the photos, shook hands as needed, and even laughed at one of her lighthearted jokes about Stanford students invading the camp.

But I was lying to myself the entire time. I couldn’t focus. My mind kept replaying the mystereous green eyes and the way she had looked at me, like she felt it too.

Who was she? A student? I wanted to know so badly. But more than anything, I wanted to know what had just happened.

Why had Storm wanted to claim her so badly? Why had I felt the same way even though I already had my fated mate? Storm growled in my head, saying he hadn’t wanted to claim her, he had claimed her.

I could feel the guilt washing over him in waves and sinking into me now that she was gone. He felt like he had betrayed our mate.

I tried to console him, telling him that we must have had a moment of weakness.

He disagreed, however. We weren’t supposed to when it came to our mate, and he was right. But what else could I say to explain what had just happened?

Teagan wrapped up and thanked me profusely, shaking my hand a little too long before posing for pictures, and I managed a polite, “Anytime," before stepping back as the coaching staff waved over the next wave of media almost immediately.

Rolling my shoulders, I forced my expression back into the familiar, confident mask I wore for these things as I moved through the next interviews on muscle memory.

All the while, I told myself the strange encounter was already fading.

I signed jerseys for kids, posed for photos, and kept my smile from slipping. I even managed to joke with Louis between segments, clapping him on the back when he ribbed me about “going full hero mode catching damsels.”

But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I’d successfully pushed the green-eyed girl out of my mind, deep down, I knew something had shifted.

I could feel it.