Chapter 4 Caelan
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Caelan
I was not stalking my mate.
I was conducting strategic surveillance.
There was a difference. Stalking implied malicious intent, and my intent was purely protective.
Benevolent, even. I was simply ensuring that the woman who was the other half of my soul remained safe while she went about her human life, completely unaware that a werewolf prince was watching her from the shadows.
See? Completely different.
It had been hours since I left the bookstore, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about her for a single second. I couldn’t read, couldn’t focus on the portal mission. I couldn’t do anything except replay every moment of our meeting in my head. Her face was imprinted on the inside of my eyelids.
I needed to see her again. Needed to make sure she was okay, to know where she lived, where she worked, what her daily routine looked like. I needed to find out who that man was and how to permanently remove him from existence.
Normal concerns, completely reasonable.
Thessa thought I’d lost my mind. She was probably right.
“You know,” she said, trailing behind me as I tracked Riley’s scent through the Lysmont streets, “here, in the human world, this is considered criminal behavior.”
“It’s not criminal. It’s thorough.”
“Thorough investigation is still stalking.”
“I prefer the term ‘dedicated observation.’”
Thessa made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You’re going to end up in human prison. Do you know what human prison is like? I’ve seen documentaries. It’s very unpleasant. Orange jumpsuits, communal showers, terrible food, no natural light.”
“I’m not going to prison.”
“That’s what all the criminals say. Right before they go to prison.”
I ignored her. The scent trail led to a building on the edge of downtown, a tattoo shop called Ink & Iron with an apartment above it. My wolf settled at the discovery, satisfied to know where she lived. Where she slept. Where I could find her if needed.
Which I wouldn’t need to do. Because I wasn’t stalking her.
I was just memorizing the location. For emergencies.
“Oh no,” Thessa said, following my gaze to the fire escape on the building across the street. “I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m about to do something stupid’ look.”
“I don’t have a look.”
“You absolutely have a look. Father gets the same one right before he makes a terrible diplomatic decision. It’s genetic.” She squinted at my face. “You’re wearing it right now.”
The building across the street had a fire escape that led to a rooftop with a perfect line of sight to her apartment windows. Not that I was considering climbing it. That would be excessive. That would be the behavior of someone who had completely lost control of their faculties.
I climbed it.
“Caelan!” Thessa hissed from below. “Caelan, get down from there! This is insane!”
“Go back to the rental,” I called down. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be arrested!”
“I’ll be discreet.”
“You’re a six-foot-seven man climbing a fire escape! That’s the opposite of discreet!”
But I was already at the top, and I wasn’t coming down. Thessa muttered a string of curses in the old tongue, declared she was going to start researching human bail procedures, and stomped off down the street.
The rooftop was cold. I didn’t care. From here, I could see directly into Riley’s apartment.
It was small. Tiny, really. Mismatched furniture and books stacked on every available surface, towers of paperbacks threatening to topple at the slightest breeze.
There was a stain on her ceiling that looked vaguely like a face.
Her kitchen was barely bigger than a closet.
The couch looked like it had seen better decades.
And there she was.
Riley was lying face-down on that ancient couch, her phone in her hand, occasionally typing something that made her smile.
Her hair was still up in that messy bun, the pen still holding it together, and she’d kicked off her shoes.
Every few minutes, she’d shift positions, punch a pillow, or groan at something on her screen.
She was magnificent.
My wolf rumbled with displeasure at the modest accommodations.
She deserved better. She deserved palaces and luxury and anything her heart desired.
She deserved silk sheets, servants, a kingdom at her feet, libraries filled with books and windows that overlooked gardens instead of a tattoo parlor.
Which was the exact view I had at my room back at Duskmere.
But I couldn’t exactly knock on her door and announce that, could I?
“Hello, I’m a werewolf prince from another realm and you’re my fated mate.
Would you like to come live in my castle?
” Humans didn’t respond well to that sort of thing.
I’d been in this world long enough to know that much.
They required courtship, time, and trust.
I also couldn’t leave. I couldn’t make myself climb back down and walk away. So I watched, waited and planned.
My wolf finally settled for the first time since I’d scented her, satisfied just to be close, to know she was safe. Just to breathe air that carried traces of her scent.
For now, that would have to be enough.
***
Riley left her apartment an hour later, and my entire body went on alert.
Where was she going? It was getting dark.
The streets were emptying out. She shouldn’t be walking alone, not when that man, Damien, might be out there somewhere.
I needed to learn more about him. Hell, I needed to learn everything, starting with his home address and ending with the most efficient way to dispose of a body in the human world.
So I followed her.
She walked with purpose, clearly familiar with the route. I trailed her through the streets, keeping to the shadows, moving with the silence of a predator. My wolf was pleased, enjoying the hunt even as my human mind insisted this wasn’t a hunt. It was protection, what mates did for each other.
The fact that she didn’t know she was my mate yet was a minor detail.
She entered a grocery store and I watched through the window as she wandered the aisles.
I imagined going in there with her, pushing the cart while she selected items, learning what foods she liked, what she ate for breakfast, whether she preferred coffee or tea.
I wanted to know everything about her, every tiny detail.
Her favorite color, her favorite song, whether she slept on her back or her side.
What made her laugh, what made her cry. What she dreamed about in the quiet hours before dawn.
My wolf whined impatiently, but I forced myself to stay hidden. Not yet. I couldn’t just walk up to her in a grocery store. That would be inappropriate. That would be-
“Excuse me, young man?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
An elderly woman was standing beside me, barely reaching my chest, peering up at me with watery blue eyes.
She was carrying two grocery bags that looked far too heavy for her frail frame.
I had no idea how she’d managed to sneak up on me.
Years of combat training, defeated by a human grandmother.
My instructors back in Duskmere would be mortified.
“Could you help me cross the street?” she asked. “My hip isn’t what it used to be, and the light changes so fast these days.”
I glanced at the grocery store. Riley was still inside, visible through the window, examining a pint of ice cream with far too much deliberation.
She kept picking up different flavors, reading the labels, putting them back.
Was this a decision that required serious consideration?
Did humans have complex relationships with frozen desserts?
“I...” I should’ve said no. I should’ve stayed focused on my surveillance.
But the old woman’s face fell slightly. “Oh, it’s all right, dear. I’m sure I can manage. I just thought...”
“No.” The word came out too forcefully. I softened my voice, channeling the diplomatic training my mother had drilled into me since childhood. “No, I can help. Allow me.”
I took her bags in one hand, they weighed nothing to me, and offered her my arm with the other. She beamed up at me as if I’d just offered her the moon.
“Such a gentleman! You don’t see that much anymore. Young people today are always in such a rush. No time for common courtesy. No time to help an old woman with her groceries.” She patted my arm. “My late husband was like you. Big man. Strong. Always helping people whether they asked or not.”
We began the painfully slow journey across the street. The crosswalk felt approximately seven miles long. I kept glancing back at the grocery store, terrified Riley would leave while I was stuck escorting this tiny human at a pace that would make a snail impatient.
“Are you from around here?” the woman asked.
“No. I’m visiting.”
“How lovely. Lysmont is a nice town. Quiet. Good people. A little boring, if you ask me, but safe.” She peered up at me. “Business or pleasure?”
I thought about Riley. About her smile, her wit, the fire in her eyes when she mispronounced my name. About the way my entire world had shifted the moment I saw her face.
“Pleasure,” I said. “Definitely pleasure.”
The woman nodded knowingly. “A girl, then. I can always tell. You have that look about you.”
“What look?”
“The stupid one. Men get it when they’re in love. My Harold had that look for forty-seven years, bless his heart. Couldn’t hide anything from me. Couldn’t lie to save his life.” She chuckled. “Made him a terrible poker player but a wonderful husband.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just kept walking.
“Is she pretty?” the woman asked.
“She’s...” I searched for words that could possibly capture Riley. Pretty felt insufficient. Beautiful felt inadequate. “She’s everything.”