My New Boss Is My Wolf Mate & Stalker and Lover

🖤 The Scent of the Moon 🌙 The air in Sterling & Co. had always smelled like old paper and ambition. For Elara, it had also smelled like him—Markus, her old boss, whose smile was as warm as the corner office sunlight. She’d loved that scent, that life. But Markus was gone, replaced by Mr. Kaelen Thorne. Kaelen didn't smile. He didn't offer a cheerful "Good morning." The office now smelled of sterile, expensive leather, ozone after a storm, and something profoundly, unsettlingly wild. The whispers started immediately: Cold. Heartless. He fires people over misplaced commas. Elara was determined to keep her head down and her heart locked away. Kaelen Thorne was an imposing figure, built like a hunter, with silver-flecked eyes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Elara tried to avoid those eyes, focusing only on the stacks of merger documents that now piled her desk. What she didn't know was that Kaelen, the aloof, formidable CEO, was suffering. He was a Lupine Hybrid, a secret he guarded with lethal focus. And Elara... she smelled like everything he'd been denied: sun-warmed honey, cedar, and the purest, most intoxicating call of the wild. To his wolf, she was the mate. The Obsession Begins Kaelen's "coldness" was a carefully crafted shield to manage the constant, overwhelming pull toward her. In the dead of night, while Elara slept, Kaelen moved. His human form was powerful, but his truth was more elemental. He tracked her, following the faint, beautiful scent she left in the city air. One Tuesday, Elara stayed late, struggling with a particularly complex brief. The office was silent, save for the rhythmic clack of her keyboard. She shivered, feeling that familiar sense of being watched. Suddenly, Kaelen was standing in her doorway. He wasn't looming; he was simply there. “Ms. Vance,” his voice was low, a deep rumble that vibrated through the quiet office. “You are working past security hours.” “I apologize, sir. I’m almost done.” Elara’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She felt pinned, not by anger, but by the sheer, devastating intensity of his stare. He took a slow step into the room, his eyes scanning her face, then dipping to her throat, a predatory focus that made her skin prickle. “Leave the documents,” he commanded, his voice rougher now, a barely suppressed tremor in the sound. “I will finish this. Go home, Elara.” He had never used her first name. It was an intimate breach of their professional wall. As she gathered her bag, their hands brushed—a fleeting contact over a file folder. Kaelen inhaled sharply, his fingers curling, almost grasping her. The scent of her skin, warm from the office lamps, was a punch to his control. “Be careful on the street,” he murmured, his silver eyes dark, a storm brewing behind them. That night, Elara rushed home, dismissing the interaction as stress. But as she slept, Kaelen stood on the roof across the street, watching her window, the moonlight catching the faint, subtle shadow of ears twitching atop his head, the agonizing need to claim her a physical ache. The Claim The next week, Kaelen called Elara into his private study at the office. It was a space few were permitted to enter—dark mahogany, heavy curtains, and a colossal fireplace. “These new acquisitions,” he began, pointing to a graph, his attention seemingly focused on work. Elara leaned closer, trying to follow the trajectory of his expensive pen. “The projections are optimistic, sir, but the risk assessment is—" She stopped mid-sentence. Kaelen wasn't looking at the graph. He had turned fully toward her, blocking the light from the tall window. “The risk,” he finished, his voice a low, gravelly invitation, “is negligible when the reward is certain.” He moved with the speed that always unnerved her—the impossible quickness of a predator. He closed the remaining distance, trapping her gently between his body and the heavy desk. The scent of ozone and the deep, rich smell of him overwhelmed her senses. “You have been trying to avoid me, Elara,” he stated, his breath warm against her ear. “I can feel it. It is… unnecessary.” Elara couldn't speak. She could only feel the sheer, intoxicating heat radiating from him. The cold, heartless boss was gone, replaced by something burning, something demanding. “I… I don’t understand, Mr. Thorne.” He smiled then—a genuine, devastating expression that cracked the façade of the CEO. It was a flash of teeth, a hint of something feral and beautiful. “Call me Kaelen.” His hand, large and infinitely gentle, came up to cup the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the soft line of her jaw. “I know everything about you, Elara. Your favorite coffee, the way you chew your lip when you’re thinking, the little mole behind your left ear.” He leaned in, his lips hovering over the pulse point at her throat, where her blood beat a frantic, urgent rhythm. “You think I am cold,” he whispered, a promise and a threat entwined. “Let me show you how warm a predator can be when he finally catches what he has been chasing.” The last of her resolve shattered. The rumors, the warnings—they evaporated in the face of his proximity, the magnetic pull of the unknown. Her hands lifted, almost involuntarily, to grip the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. Kaelen didn’t wait. His mouth found hers—a kiss that was everything she’d feared and everything she suddenly desired: possessive, deep, and carrying the wild, untamed taste of the moon. As his lips moved against hers, a silent, triumphant howl echoed only in his heart. He had her now. And the wolf would never let go.