Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Bonus Scene 1 - The Hotel
Merrick’s point of view
The moment I step into the hotel lobby, a faint thrumming prickles beneath my skin, like an itch I can’t scratch. My gaze sweeps the room, instincts sharpening before I consciously assess the space. It’s clean, quiet, and entirely unremarkable.
Except for her.
My eyes lock on the woman sitting on the lobby sofa, a laptop at her side. Her scent strikes me before I fully register her presence—warm and faintly sweet, like strawberries, vanilla, and sunshine. The realisation hits like a blow to my chest, and my beast stirs.
No. Not possible.
I freeze mid-stride. From her profile, she seems ordinary enough—casual, comfortable, a hint of weariness in her posture. She adjusts the cheap jumper she is wearing, tugging at the sleeves as though shielding herself from the world. Nothing about her matches what I expected from the Ministry’s newest IT recruit. Certainly not this.
Mine.
I shove the thought away and keep moving, each step deliberate and steady, though my instincts scream otherwise. I didn’t come here to claim a mate. I came to deliver documents, vet a new hire with Human First ties, and discreetly investigate a potential security breach near the border. Routine.
Routine for anyone else, perhaps, but not for me. I don’t play courier, and I’ve never vetted a new hire in person—especially not a human. Yet here I am, staring at my mate while fate conspires to upend my carefully constructed plans. I can’t afford distractions, especially not pretty ones like her.
Still, a flicker of satisfaction sparks when her eyes lift to meet mine. They widen, surprise and vulnerability flickering across her face before she glances away, flustered. She is trying to compose herself, but I notice the signs—her quickened pulse, the subtle shift in her scent, attraction and nervousness laced with a sharper edge of defiance.
Interesting.
I approach, movements controlled and presence deliberate. She looks up, meeting my gaze with a challenge in her beautiful brown eyes. It’s so hard not to smile. This human, barely half my size, is staring me down. Feisty. Brave. Possibly foolish, but the primal part of me appreciates it.
I stop in front of her, and for a moment, everything else fades. Her lips part slightly, as though she wants to speak but hesitates. The urge to lean closer—close the space between us—drums dangerously in my chest.
She is extraordinary.
“Mrs Emerson,” I say, letting the name linger like a bitter taste. Restraint burns in my chest, holding back the simmering fire. If I dwell on what that name implies—on the man who tied her to it—I might tear this entire place apart.
“Yes, that’s me.” Her voice is polite and professional, but there’s a steely edge beneath it. “Are you the courier for the Ministry?”
“Something like that.” A faint twitch at the corner of my mouth betrays my amusement. It’s not a lie, but hardly the whole truth.
Her brow furrows momentarily, doubt glimmering in her expression. She suspects I’m mocking her. I extend my hand. “May I see some identification?”
“Yeah, sure.” She fumbles in the pocket of her oversized jogging bottoms, pulling out a plastic card. The motion is ungraceful but somehow endearing, entirely unguarded.
My fated mate is captivating—naturally beautiful, no matter what she wears. Her baggy clothes don’t hide her curves.
When our fingers almost brush, I sense the tiniest tremor. She is anxious but trying to hide it.
I take the card, studying it longer than necessary—not to confirm her identity but to absorb her name. Significant. Important.
My mate.
Lark.
Lark Emerson.
Lark Winters, my wolf growls.
I flick the card back to her, the gesture casual.
“Okay, well, thank you,” she says, accepting both the ID and the envelope of documents. She balances the hefty package on her knees. “Thank you for coming and dropping this off.” Her wave towards the exit is almost dismissive, as though to usher me away. My beast rumbles, amused.
There is so much fire in her, hidden beneath nerves and exhaustion.
“No, Mrs Emerson. I must wait for you to review the documents and, if necessary, sign them.”
Her brows shoot up. “I thought it was just paperwork for me to look over.” She frowns at the envelope. “That’s… unconventional.”
“It might take some time,” she warns, glancing at me uncertainly. “Would you like to take a seat?”
“No, I’m fine.” I clasp my hands behind my back, forcing a parade-rest posture. The effort not to close the distance—to comfort her—burns through me.
Her gaze flicks around, unsure what to make of me.
Good. Let her wonder.
She examines the wax seal, humming softly. My wolf stirs, unsettled and intrigued. She is so unaware of the world she is entering, yet her scent reveals a hidden strength.
And she is mine .
I bite back the possessive growl clawing at my throat. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Her fingers brush the enchanted parchment as she draws out the documents. The spell embedded within them activates, its faint magical aura rippling through my senses.
She flinches, shaking the paper as though it burned her. “Ouch! Stop that,” she mutters.
A hint of a smile tugs at my lips. She is entirely endearing, utterly adorable. But I can’t have her think I’m laughing at her expense. Schooling my features into a neutral mask, I let my gaze drift toward the glass doors, feigning disinterest.