Chapter 7
SEVEN
THALRIC
Thalric’s boots wore a path on the carpeted floor of his estate’s main living area as he paced the length of the room.
The morning light streaming through the tall windows cast shifting patterns across the polished surfaces, but he barely registered the familiar beauty of his surroundings.
His entire focus had narrowed to a single, consuming awareness: his fated mate was coming.
Today.
Gerri’s advice from their last conversation still rang in his ears—get some sleep, be at your best—but how could anyone expect him to sleep when his entire world was about to shift on its axis?
He’d spent the dark hours before dawn staring at the ceiling, his mind cycling through carefully constructed scenarios of how their first meeting would unfold.
She would be competent, naturally. Gerri had assured him of that.
A former Olympic swimmer, disciplined and accomplished—exactly the kind of mate who could stand beside an Alpha without creating complications.
Beautiful, certainly, but more importantly, manageable.
Someone who would understand her role, follow his lead, and integrate seamlessly into the pack structure he’d spent five years perfecting.
Strategic mating, he reminded himself, the phrase as familiar as a battle plan. This is about stability, not sentiment.
His wolf stirred restlessly, disagreeing with that assessment in ways that made Thalric’s jaw clench. The beast had been increasingly agitated over the past few hours, whining for something Thalric refused to name.
“She’ll be perfect,” he said aloud to the empty room. “Gerri doesn’t make mistakes.”
The matchmaker had been clear about his mate’s qualifications. An elite athlete meant discipline and focus. A coach meant leadership skills and the ability to guide others. A human meant she would need his protection, his guidance, his—
Control.
The word settled in his chest like a key finding its lock. Control was what he understood. Control was what had kept the pack stable through five years of questions about his legitimacy, five years of proving he was worthy of Roman’s choice. Control was what would make this mating successful.
He paused his pacing, straightening his shoulders and adjusting the crisp white shirt he’d chosen for their meeting. Professional but approachable. Authoritative without being intimidating. The image of a perfect Alpha mate.
Roman would have handled this differently, the traitorous thought whispered through his mind. Roman would have been himself.
But Roman had been born to leadership, blood-blessed and unquestioned. Roman had never needed to prove his worth or justify his position. Roman had possessed a natural certainty that Thalric could only approximate through careful construction of the right image, the right words, the right—
His wolf’s sudden alertness slammed into him like a blow, driving every other thought from his mind.
Mate.
The word reverberated through every cell in his body, a recognition so profound it left him momentarily breathless. She was here. On Nova Aurora. The mate bond stretched between them like a golden thread, tugging at something deep in his chest with insistent demand.
Thalric moved to the nearest window, his enhanced senses reaching out desperately for any trace of her presence.
There—carried on the warm breeze flowing through the estate’s open windows—the faintest whisper of scent.
Citrus bright and clean, vanilla warm and sweet, and something uniquely hers that made his wolf whine with need.
The reaction was so immediate, so overwhelming, that his hands gripped the window frame hard enough to crack the wood. His carefully constructed composure cracked around the edges as primitive instincts roared to life.
Shift. Run. Find her. Claim her.
“No,” he growled, forcing his breathing back under control. “Not like this.”
But his wolf had no interest in strategic thinking or proper protocols. The beast wanted to burst from his skin, to race across the estate grounds until he found her, to—
“What exactly?” Thalric demanded of himself, appalled by the intensity of his own reaction. “Pin her against the nearest wall and mark her throat before she’s even learned your name?”
This was not the controlled, manageable meeting he’d envisioned. This was chaos. This was exactly the kind of complication he’d spent years learning to avoid.
He forced himself away from the window, running both hands through his dark brown hair in a gesture that would have horrified him if anyone had witnessed it.
Alphas didn’t show agitation. Alphas didn’t lose control over their wolves.
Alphas certainly didn’t crack window frames because they could smell their mate’s approach.
Get it together, he commanded himself. You sent Alira to meet them. She’ll bring them here in an orderly fashion. You’ll greet Gerri professionally, be introduced to your mate politely, and handle this like the leader you are.
But even as he formed the plan, his wolf snarled in protest. The beast didn’t want politeness or strategy. It wanted to claim what was theirs with primitive certainty, to make absolutely sure she understood exactly who and what she belonged to.
The contradiction between what he needed to do and what every instinct screamed to do created a tension that made his muscles coil like springs. He’d never experienced anything like this—this loss of emotional control that had become his trademark.
This is a political necessity, he reminded himself firmly, striding toward his office with determined steps. A strategic alliance. You’ll be the Alpha she needs, not some wild animal ruled by instinct.
But his wolf’s rumbling disagreement followed him down the hallway, a constant reminder that some things couldn’t be controlled, couldn’t be managed, couldn’t be reduced to strategy and careful planning.
He reached his office door and paused, one hand on the polished handle.
Inside waited the desk where he conducted pack business, the chairs where he met with other leaders, the carefully arranged space that projected competence and authority.
Everything designed to remind visitors—and himself—exactly who he was and what he represented.
Just be yourself, Gerri had said, but the advice felt impossible now.
He’d spent five years building walls around anything that might be considered weakness, anything that might suggest he was less than perfectly suited for leadership. The idea of letting those defenses down, even for his mate, felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.
She’ll expect strength, he reasoned. She’ll want to know she’s mated to an Alpha who can protect her, provide for her, lead her.
But underneath that rational thought, a smaller voice whispered doubts. What if strength wasn’t enough? What if she wanted something he’d forgotten how to give? What if the mate bond demanded the very authenticity he’d learned to bury?
His wolf’s restless energy pushed against his skin, demanding action, demanding her. The need was becoming physical now, a hunger that clawed at his insides and made standing still feel like torture.
They’ll be here soon, he told himself, finally pushing open the office door. Alira will bring them here, you’ll meet her properly, and everything will proceed according to plan.
He settled behind his desk, straightening papers that didn’t need straightening and adjusting his posture into the commanding presence his pack expected.
But even as Thalric tried to prepare for their arrival, his wolf paced in increasingly agitated circles, whining for the mate whose scent still lingered in his senses like a promise.
This was supposed to be simple, he thought grimly. Strategic. Manageable.
Instead, it felt like drowning, knowing that one wrong move would send everything he’d built spiraling around him.
Time fractured around him like glass hitting stone.
One moment Thalric was drowning in strategic calculations and his wolf’s demands, the next a sharp rap against his office door sent his entire body into rigid alertness.
The sound cut through his mental spiral with surgical precision, and he found himself doing something that had never happened in five years of leadership—he actually startled.
What the hell?
His wolf’s energy spiked dangerously close to the surface, feeding off the cocktail of anticipation and barely controlled need that had been building since dawn.
Every primal instinct screamed at him to leap from his chair, to tear open that door and claim what belonged to him, but years of disciplined control held him frozen in place.
“Come in,” he managed, his voice carrying the authoritative tone he’d perfected even as his hands gripped the edge of his desk.
The door opened with deliberate care, and Alira stepped through first—her calm, soothing presence a stark contrast to the chaos raging inside him.
Behind her came a petite woman in a turquoise pantsuit who could only be Gerri Wilder, her snow-white bob catching the morning light streaming through his windows.
But it was the scent that hit him like a freight train—citrus bright and vanilla warm, so concentrated now that his wolf threw itself against his mental barriers with desperate hunger.
She’s here. Right outside this door. Mate.
“Alpha Thalric,” Alira said with her characteristic grace, “this is Gerri Wilder.”
His mate’s scent was so overwhelming that Thalric barely registered the introduction, his entire being focused on the doorway where he knew she waited. Every cell in his body vibrated with recognition, with need, with the primitive demand to claim and protect and possess.
“I’ll go ensure Navira’s guest suite is perfectly prepared for her arrival after your meeting,” Alira continued, her silver-blue eyes flickering with something that might have been concern at his obvious tension.
“Thank you, Alira,” he forced out through a jaw that felt wired shut, watching his estate attendant retreat with her fluid grace.