My Dearly Beloved Luna

Chapter 18

~ Elias ~

I can’t stop watching her.

From where I sit, the entire office floor is visible through the glass surrounding my office. I should be paying attention to the reports waiting on my desk, the calls I need to make, and the people moving around me, but every few minutes my eyes find Sylvia again.

She’s working a little farther away, close enough for me to keep her in sight without having to leave my office. Her laptop is open, and she has been focused on it since she arrived. She reads, types, pauses to check something, then continues as if nothing else in this building exists.

She hasn’t looked at me once since she walked through those doors.

I lean back and stare at the ceiling for a moment before my attention drifts toward her again. Her red hair is pulled back, though a few strands have fallen loose around her face. When she turns slightly, I catch a glimpse of her blue eyes fixed on the screen before she returns to whatever she’s reading.

My wolf stirs immediately, and the possessive thought that follows is so strong I have to tighten my jaw to push it down. She’s mine.

“Stay down,” I mutter, reaching for the report on my desk.

He ignores me.

He has been doing that since Sylvia came back into my life. For two days, I’ve had my mate within reach, and every instinct in me has demanded that I close the distance between us. Instead, I’ve spent those same two days pretending she is nothing more than another employee.

The problem is, Sylvia doesn’t seem to feel the bond. At least, she doesn’t understand it.

I felt it the moment I saw her again. There was no confusion in me, no uncertainty. My wolf recognized her before my mind had even caught up. Yet she looks at me like I’m someone she would rather avoid, and maybe I deserve that.

I remember exactly what she heard me say;weak, shy, sheltered. I chose those words because I needed Father to understand why bringing her into my department was a bad idea. I never expected her to hear me, and I certainly didn’t expect to see the hurt on her face when she opened that door.

She hadn’t cried, and somehow that made it worse. Her face had lost its color, but she held herself together, looked at me once, and walked away as though whatever she had been feeling wasn’t worth showing me.

I still hate myself for that.

Then came the hallway. She had stopped when I caught her, and for a moment I thought I could explain. Instead, I pushed too hard, asked why she was pretending everything was fine, and watched something change in her expression. She asked if I didn’t like her, and I should have told her the truth. I didn’t. Now she thinks I can’t stand her.

The next morning, she refused my offer to drive her to work. When I tried to stop her outside, the bond nearly overwhelmed me. The moment I touched her, I could feel the tension running through her body even while she fought to hide it. Then she told me my scent made her sick.

My wolf went completely still, but not because he believed her. He knew she was lying because there was nothing about the way she had reacted to me that looked like disgust. Her body had told me something completely different, and my wolf had felt every second of it.

Then she surprised me again by breaking my hold.

One clean movement, precise enough that I barely had time to react before she was free and walking away from me. That wasn’t the Sylvia I remembered.

The girl I knew years ago had been quiet around the pack. She watched people carefully, kept her head down, and seemed to measure every word before allowing herself to speak. She had been gentle, almost painfully so.

But this Sylvia is different.

She’s still carrying something soft beneath all that control, but she has learned how to protect it.

I saw just how much she had changed yesterday.

I was passing near the kitchen when I heard voices. I would have continued walking if I hadn’t recognized Sylvia’s. Something about her tone made me stop, and when she said, “Say it again,” I turned toward the doorway just as something hit the floor.

I stepped closer and found Sylvia holding Martha’s arm in a position that left the older woman completely helpless. Martha’s face had gone pale, but Sylvia hadn’t lost her composure. That was what caught me most. She looked calm.

“Since you have something to say about me, we can take it to my Father,” Sylvia told her, keeping her grip steady.

Edmund tried to step between them, but Sylvia didn’t lose control. Even when Martha began pleading, Sylvia made it clear that disrespecting her would have consequences. She might be weak, she told Martha, but that didn’t give anyone the right to walk over her.

Then she released her.

Instead of making a scene or trying to prove herself, Sylvia simply asked for something to eat, picked up her things, and walked out of the kitchen.

I barely had time to step aside before she came through the doorway and nearly walked straight into me. Her eyes met mine, and for one second, I saw the surprise there. Then the walls went back up.

She became guarded again, careful again, as though whatever had almost shown on her face couldn’t be allowed to exist between us.

Now she’s somewhere across the office, working as though I’m not here.

And somehow, watching her ignore me is becoming harder than watching her fight me.

Because every instinct in me keeps telling me the same thing. She’s my mate, and I’m running out of ways to pretend she isn’t.