CHAPTER TWO
1036 Words
Elijah did not sleep that night.
The city breathed around him—sirens rising and falling somewhere far away, muffled laughter drifting from the street below, light slipping through the thin curtains as though darkness itself had given up trying. He lay on the narrow bed, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other resting over his chest, where his heart refused to slow.
Her face came back to him again.
Victoria Sterling.
Not just the way she looked—though that alone would have been enough—but the way she saw him. She hadn’t looked through him like most people did. She hadn’t measured him, dismissed him, or reduced him to a résumé.
She had listened.
Elijah turned onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut. “Get it together,” he whispered into the quiet room.
But beneath the thoughts, beneath logic and reason, there was something else. A subtle pull. A strange sense of familiarity that made no sense at all—like stepping into a room you’d never been in and somehow knowing where everything was.
Across the city, Victoria stood barefoot on the balcony of her bedroom, wrapped in the soft hush of night.
The moon hung full and luminous, silver light spilling over glass and concrete, painting the city in quiet mystery. She rested her hands on the railing, the cool metal grounding her as her thoughts refused to settle.
“This is ridiculous,” she murmured.
She had interviewed hundreds of people. Ambitious minds. Creative geniuses. None of them had followed her home like this—none had lingered in her chest, tight and warm, long after the day ended.
Elijah Moore unsettled her.
Not because of desire alone—she’d known attraction before—but because being near him felt like remembering something she hadn’t realized she’d forgotten.
Her wolf stirred, restless beneath her skin.
Mine.
Victoria inhaled sharply, fingers curling against the railing. “No,” she said aloud, as if the word could anchor her. “He’s human.”
Yet the denial rang hollow.
Morning came quietly.
Elijah sat at the small table in his apartment, pencil moving without intention as he sketched half-formed shapes across a page. His phone buzzed.
He froze.
Sterling Art & Design Group
Subject: Employment Offer
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
When he opened the email, the words blurred. He read them again. And again.
We are pleased to inform you…
The phone slipped from his hand and hit the table with a dull sound.
Then he laughed—soft, almost disbelieving.
Then his chest tightened, and tears welled before he could stop them.
He called Margaret immediately.
“Grandma,” he said the moment she answered. His voice cracked. “I got it.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then a quiet laugh—warm, relieved, proud. “Of course you did,” she said. “I never doubted you.”
“I wish you were here,” he admitted.
“I am,” she replied gently. “In every step you take.”
When the call ended, Margaret sat alone in her living room, staring at a photograph tucked away in an old drawer. Her fingers brushed the edge of it.
“Just like your father,” she whispered—her smile touched with something deeper, heavier.
Elijah’s first day at Sterling Art & Design Group passed like a dream.
The building buzzed with energy—ideas traded in quick bursts, sketches passed from hand to hand, passion humming beneath professionalism. He kept his head down, working quietly, pouring himself into every design.
By mid-morning, someone stopped behind him.
“Who drew this?”
Elijah looked up, startled. “I did.”
The senior designer studied the sketch again. “It feels… honest,” he said. “Like it means something.”
Word traveled fast.
Victoria appeared at his workstation that afternoon, watching him without interrupting. He didn’t notice her until she spoke.
“You disappear when you work.”
Elijah jumped, then laughed under his breath. “Sorry.”
She smiled—soft, unguarded. “Don’t be. It’s rare.”
Their eyes met, and the feeling returned. Stronger. Closer. Victoria felt her wolf press forward again, impatient.
She turned away before she said too much. “Keep going,” she said simply.
Elijah watched her leave, heart racing.
Weeks passed.
Elijah thrived.
Clients asked about him by name. His designs carried weight—emotion. And through it all, Victoria watched, impressed not just by his talent, but by the way success never hardened him.
They talked more. About childhoods. About dreams deferred and dreams still breathing. Elijah told her about Maple Creek, about growing up with little but learning to see beauty anyway.
Victoria listened, something aching softly in her chest.
One evening, she invited him to dinner.
He hesitated at the restaurant she chose, but she only smiled. “Trust me.”
She laughed gently as she picked out clothes for him, brushing off his embarrassment. “You don’t have to become someone else,” she said. “Just let yourself be seen.”
Dinner felt easy. Warm. Real.
For the first time in years, Victoria felt unburdened.
At home, reality returned.
“You’re getting close,” Richard Sterling said evenly.
Victoria stiffened. “His name is Elijah.”
“He is not your mate,” Eleanor said gently.
“I feel it,” Victoria replied.
Richard’s gaze hardened. “Then you’re mistaken.”
The night shifted quietly.
Streetlights glowed as Victoria and Elijah walked side by side, laughter fading into something more fragile.
“I’ve never felt this before,” Elijah said softly.
“Neither have I,” she answered.
When they kissed, everything else fell away.
Power flared—brief and blinding.
Victoria pulled back, breath unsteady. For a heartbeat, she had seen something impossible.
“Elijah…” she whispered.
“What?” he asked, confused.
She shook her head. “I need air.”
That night, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
He’s my mate.
Miles away, Elijah sat upright in bed, hands trembling.
Something inside him had begun to wake.
And it wasn’t going back to sleep.
- Writer
