Chapter 9
NINE
NAVIRA
The silence stretched between them like a taut wire as Thalric led her through corridors that belonged in a palace rather than a home.
Navira’s footsteps echoed against marble floors polished to mirror perfection, her gaze catching on tapestries that seemed to shimmer with their own light and artwork that probably cost more than her annual salary.
But it was the man walking ahead of her that commanded her attention—the way his broad shoulders filled his shirt, the controlled precision of his movements, his intense presence that tugged at something inside her.
Stop, she told herself, watching the play of muscles beneath the fabric of his clothes. You just met him. You don’t even know what a fated mate means. You told him no romance.
But her body hadn’t gotten that memo. Every step brought fresh waves of his intoxicating scent—something like ocean salt and cedar that made Navira want to step closer instead of maintaining the careful space between them.
The memory of their handshake came rushing back.
When he’d grabbed her hand tighter in his office, when he’d pulled her against that powerful chest, she’d forgotten how to breathe.
For one wild moment, she’d wanted to rise on her toes and taste those lips, to see if his kiss would be as commanding as his presence.
Heat spiraled through her belly, and she forced her gaze to the ornate ceiling instead of the man carrying her luggage like it weighed nothing.
Get it together, Navira. You’re here to coach. That’s it.
But even as she repeated the mantra, she couldn’t shake the feeling that everything about this situation was impossible yet somehow inevitable.
The way he’d looked at her when she’d walked into his office—like she was water and he’d been dying of thirst. The electric shock that had raced through her when their skin touched.
The way her entire body had responded to his declaration that she was his perfect mate, even as her mind recoiled from the presumption.
It’s just because he’s a shifter, she reasoned desperately. You’ve never met one before. They’re probably all intense and captivating. It doesn’t mean anything.
But the rationalization felt hollow even as she thought it.
They reached a door crafted from what looked like ancient oak, its surface carved with intricate designs that seemed to move in her peripheral vision.
Thalric set her suitcases down with careful precision, his storm-grey eyes meeting hers briefly before he turned the ornate handle and pushed the door open.
“Your suite,” Thalric said, his deep voice carrying that same controlled authority that made something low in her belly clench with unwanted awareness.
Navira stepped through the doorway and forgot how to form words.
The guest suite stretched before her like something from a luxury travel magazine.
The main room alone was larger than her townhome’s entire lower level back in Indiana, with soaring ceilings that disappeared into shadow and massive windows that offered a breathtaking view of the pink ocean beyond.
Rich fabrics in deep blues and silvers draped furniture that looked both ancient and impossibly comfortable, while artwork that seemed to glow with inner light adorned walls of polished stone.
A sitting area centered around a fireplace carved from what appeared to be black marble dominated one corner, while a dining nook with seating for six occupied another.
Through an archway, she glimpsed a bedroom that rivaled the master suites in five-star hotels, complete with a bed that could easily sleep four people and more of those floor-to-ceiling windows.
“This...” She trailed off, turning in a slow circle as she tried to process the opulence surrounding her. “This rivals some of the premier international hotels I’ve stayed at.”
She’d seen luxury before—Olympic athletes got access to some pretty incredible accommodations—but this felt different. Personal.
The sound of her suitcases being wheeled inside drew her attention back to Thalric, who was positioning them near an ornate wardrobe with the same careful precision he seemed to apply to everything.
His movements were economical yet graceful, and she found herself watching the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders as he straightened.
“Lunch will be served in an hour,” he said without looking at her, his voice carrying a formal distance that felt forced. “But there’s no pressure. If you’d prefer to eat in your room, I can have something sent up.”
The offer was clearly meant to give her an out, a way to avoid spending time with him after their disastrous introduction. Part of her wanted to take it—to hide in this beautiful suite and pretend that the mate thing didn’t exist, that she hadn’t felt her entire world shift when he’d touched her.
But another part of her, the part that had always faced challenges head-on, rebelled against the cowardice. She was staying in his home, using his hospitality, and she’d agreed to coach his pack. The least she could do was not act like a spoiled child hiding from an uncomfortable situation.
“I’ll join you,” she heard herself say, proud that her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
Something flickered in his storm-grey eyes—surprise, maybe, or relief. “Great. I look forward to it.”
The simple words carried more weight than they should have, and Navira felt that unwanted flutter in her chest again. She cleared her throat, desperate for something practical to focus on.
“Is there a phone I can use? I need to call my father.”
“There’s a communicator on the desk by the window,” he said, gesturing toward an elegant piece of furniture positioned to take advantage of the ocean view. “It works very similar to a phone and should be fairly intuitive.”
She nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Thank you.”
He moved toward the door with that same controlled grace, pausing at the threshold.
For a moment, she thought he might say something important—his jaw worked as if he were choosing his words carefully.
But in the end, he simply inclined his head in a gesture that managed to be both formal and oddly intimate.
“I’ll see you in an hour, Navira.”
The way he said her name—like he was tasting it, savoring it—sent shivers down her spine. Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.
Navira stood frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs as she processed everything that had just happened. The luxury of the suite, the careful courtesy in his manner, the way he’d looked at her like she was something precious and dangerous all at once.
What have I gotten myself into?
She moved to the desk he’d indicated, running her fingers over its polished surface as she tried to center herself.
The communicator looked remarkably similar to a traditional phone, though it was crafted from some kind of metal that seemed to shift colors in the light.
After a moment of experimentation, she managed to figure out the interface and dialed her father’s familiar number.
He answered on the second ring, his voice holding the same steady warmth that had been her anchor through every crisis of her life.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dad.” The words came out rougher than she’d intended, thick with emotions she couldn’t quite name.
“Navira? I don’t recognize this number.”
“I’m out of town,” she said, sinking into the chair behind the desk as relief flooded through her at the sound of his voice. “Actually, I’m on another planet, but don’t worry.”
A long pause. “That sounds impossible. How and why are you on another planet?”
Despite everything, she found herself smiling at his practical tone. Even faced with the impossible, Robert Amaryllis approached it with the same steady logic he applied to everything else.
“It’s a pretty crazy story, but I’m here for a coaching job. I’ll be here for a month. Dean Morris actually recommended me for the position.”
Another pause, shorter this time. “Well, that’s surprising, but not really. I could sense how unfulfilled you’ve been these past five years, sweetheart. Ever since your shoulder injury and you stopped competing. Maybe this will be a good challenge for you—something to light that spark again.”
The understanding in his voice nearly undid her. He’d always been able to see through her carefully constructed facades, and had always known when she was struggling even when she tried to hide it.
“I’m excited for you,” he continued, “but I still need you to be careful and check in often so I don’t worry too much.”
“I promise I’ll be safe and stay in touch,” she said, her throat tight with unshed tears. “I’m staying with the leader of the territory here, and he seems very capable.”
Capable.
That was certainly one way to describe Thalric—though it didn’t begin to capture the raw magnetism that had nearly knocked her off her feet, or the way his presence made her feel simultaneously protected and endangered.
“That’s reassuring,” her father said. “I love you, sweetheart. Have an adventure for both of us.”
“I love you too, Dad. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She ended the call before the tears threatening at the corners of her eyes could spill over, setting the communicator down with hands that trembled slightly.
She didn’t know why the conversation with her father had made her so emotional—maybe because he was the one person who had always been there for her, who had believed in her even when she’d stopped believing in herself.