Mesmerised by the Alpha

Chapter 2. Wolves and Ghosts

The air changed the moment I stepped out of the car.

It wasn’t just cooler—it was still. As though the whole estate was holding its breath, waiting. The scent of damp stone and pine clung to the breeze, and somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard wind chimes. Or perhaps it was something else entirely.

The hotel doors loomed ahead—tall, arched, and heavy-looking, carved with curling patterns I couldn’t quite place. I hesitated. For the first time in months, I wasn’t running away from something.

I was walking into something.

A future I couldn’t see. A place I didn’t understand. But for once, I didn’t feel like breaking. I felt... ready.

The doors creaked open before I could knock.

“Jasmine Green?”

The voice came from a tall, tanned man leaning casually against the door frame, a lopsided grin playing on his lips. He had tousled blonde hair, sun-warmed skin, and the kind of muscles that came from actual graft, not gym selfies. His short-sleeved linen shirt—half-buttoned and slightly creased—hung open just enough to hint at a toned chest beneath, and his jeans looked well-worn but clean.

“Yeah,” I said, a little caught off guard. “That’s me. But you can just call me—”

“Jasmine it is, then,” he said, cutting in with a wink. “I’m Nate—the resident handyman-s***h-concierge while the place is shut for renovations. Though really, I’m mostly here to fix jammed windows and keep the ghosts in line.” He pushed off the frame and pulled the door open with a mock bow. “Welcome to St Amstein. Mind your step—this place is ancient, but charming. Kind of like me, if you ignore the ancient part.”

He stepped aside with a practised grace, gesturing for me to enter.

The moment I crossed the threshold, the temperature dipped. The scent of old paper, lavender, and something darker—faintly metallic—hung in the air.

Inside, the hotel was even more imposing. The foyer stretched upward in a grand spiral of balconies, chandeliers suspended like frozen waterfalls. The walls were lined with portraits—stern faces and hollow eyes watching from their ornate frames.

I swallowed hard.

This place wasn’t just beautiful. It was otherworldly.

And somehow, I already knew: this job was going to be more than I’d bargained for.

“Right, follow me,” Nate said, falling into step beside me. “That there’s the foyer—proper grand, innit? Bit dramatic for my taste, but she’s got her charm. Like an aging actress who still insists on full makeup just to check the post.”

I laughed, glancing up at the massive chandelier above us. “I take it she’s high-maintenance.”

“You’ve no idea. The plumbing groans, the electrics flicker if you so much as look at them funny, and don’t even ask about the boiler. But, hey—makes me feel needed.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is really about,” I said, smirking. “You’re just here for the attention.”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, flashing a grin. “Come on—your room’s this way. Thought we’d take the scenic route.”

We wandered down a long corridor, the wooden floors creaking with every step. Paintings lined the walls—moody landscapes and stiff-looking portraits that all seemed to be watching.

“Bit creepy,” I muttered.

“Yeah, I stopped making eye contact with them after my second week,” Nate said. “Felt like they were judging my DIY skills.”

“Do they approve yet?”

He glanced sideways at me, lowering his voice. “Let’s just say the one in the red cravat hasn’t blinked in three years.”

I laughed again, the tension in my shoulders starting to ease. For all the grandeur and ghost stories, there was something comforting about Nate’s presence—like having a golden retriever with a tool belt.

He veered left down a side corridor, past a set of double doors with etched glass panels. “Quick detour. Thought I’d show you this before you get too settled.”

He pushed one of the doors open and gestured me inside.

The bar was low-lit and atmospheric, all dark wood and velvet upholstery. Shelves lined with dusty bottles stretched up behind the counter, and an old piano sat quietly in the corner beneath a sloping window. It was the kind of place you could lose hours in, without meaning to.

“This is the bar,” Nate said. “Closed to the public while the hotel’s under renovation, but we keep it open for staff in the evenings. Bit of a tradition, really. Everyone knocks off, comes down for a drink, puts the world to rights.”

“It’s gorgeous,” I said, taking in the soft glow of the antique sconces and the quiet hum of the ceiling fan.

“Glad you think so,” he replied. “We’re doing welcome drinks and dinner here tonight, seven sharp. Good way to meet the others, decompress a bit. You should come.”

“I will,” I said, meaning it. Something about the bar—and about Nate—made the place feel less overwhelming.

“Right,” he said, turning back toward the corridor. “Let’s get you properly settled.”

We reached a narrower staircase, tucked behind an arched doorway.

“This bit’s staff-only,” he explained as we climbed. “Quieter. You’ll be up on the third floor. Corner room—loads of light. Brilliant views. And the best part?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—close to the emergency exit in case the ghosts kick off?”

“No,” he said, mock-offended. “You’re just three doors down from me. So if the lights flicker, or the radiator rattles, or you fancy a midnight chat about creaky floorboards… I’m your man.”

“Are you always this helpful,” I asked, “or is this just your way of charming the new staff?”

He shrugged, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Bit of both, honestly. But mostly, I just think you’ll like it here. Weird place, yeah—but it grows on you.”

We stopped at a heavy wooden door. Room 3C.

He pulled a key from his pocket and handed it over. “Here you go. Fresh linens, working kettle, and a view backing right onto the pine forest. Absolute sea of wildflowers out there this time of year. Looks like something out of a fairytale.”

I stepped inside, dropping my bag onto the bed as he lingered in the doorway. The room was cosy and light-filled, with mismatched vintage furniture and a tall sash window that framed the trees outside like a painting. I crossed to it, brushing the curtain aside.

Beyond the stretch of lawn, the forest rose tall and dense—dark green pines towering over a scatter of vibrant wildflowers in violet, yellow, and white. The breeze made them dance slightly, as if the whole forest was quietly breathing.

Then I saw it.

A large black wolf, motionless at the edge of the trees.

Its coat was sleek and dark as midnight, and for a brief moment, I could have sworn its eyes met mine. Not in a fleeting way, either—it looked at me. As if it saw something it recognised.

I blinked, and it was gone—slipping soundlessly into the trees.

“Nate?” I turned back to the door. “Are there… wolves around here?”

He leaned on the door frame, one brow lifting. “You see one?”

“I think so. Big, black. Just there—by the trees.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’ve been a few sightings, here and there. Usually up in the mountains, though. Rare to catch one this close to the grounds. They tend to steer clear of us lot.”

“So… not dangerous?”

“They’re wild, yeah—but not likely to bother anyone. Still, probably don’t want to go wandering through the woods after dark. Just to be safe.”

I nodded slowly, still watching the spot where it had stood. “Right. Good to know.”

Nate gave me a lopsided smile. “You’re the first one to arrive, by the way. The rest of the newbies should be trickling in soon, so I’ve got to head back down to reception and do my best ‘welcoming committee’ impression.”

I smiled. “Don’t suppose they all get a scenic tour and a wolf sighting.”

He winked. “Only the lucky ones. I’ll check in later, yeah? Make sure the heating’s behaving and the ghosts haven’t tried to move your furniture. And don’t forget—seven o’clock at the bar. Welcome drinks, bit of dinner, bit of chat. See you there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good.” With a final grin and lazy salute, he turned and made his way back down the corridor, whistling something low and tuneful.

I shut the door gently behind him and turned back to the window.

The forest was still again. Silent. Empty.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d been seen.