Chapter 006 Territory
Quinn’s scent followed Julian out into the hallway.
It shouldn't have been possible. He was moving fast, putting distance between himself and the office, but the smell clung to his senses like burrs to fur. It was a maddening mix of ozone, cheap shampoo, and something uniquely her—warm and electric. He tried to convince himself it was an olfactory hallucination brought on by stress, lack of sleep, and the sheer irritation of having a tiny, pink-haired human currently unpacking her life in his personal space.
He’d intended to put her in one of the guest cottages. Isolated. Safe. Far away from him.
Instead, he’d installed her in the corner of his office.
Mate, his wolf demanded, pressing against the back of his skull. Ours. Go to her.
Julian swore under his breath and took the back stairs two at a time, heading for the small library at the rear of the second floor.
"No."
A surge of longing rolled through him, visceral and humiliating. One small human had his wolf acting like a pup presented with its first rabbit.
Pathetic.
He shoved open the library door and closed it with a little more force than necessary. The room was quiet, smelling of old paper and dust—neutral scents. Safe scents. He crossed to the heavy oak table where he’d had a stack of files moved earlier, forcing himself to sit.
He had told himself that setting up a secondary workstation in his office was practical. It allowed her to access the hardline servers while he monitored her progress. It was efficient. It certainly wasn't because he didn't trust himself to be separated from her, or because the idea of her being alone in a cottage made his hackles rise. And it definitely wasn't because he wanted to haul her across his desk and—
No.
He dragged a folder toward him. Supply requisitions. Territory patrol schedules. A formal complaint from the Westbrook pack about border incursions that was almost certainly manufactured to justify their Alpha’s posturing.
Normal things. Alpha things.
He stared at the Westbrook report. The words blurred. He read the same sentence four times. The eastern perimeter shows signs of unauthorized crossing...
His mind didn't supply the image of the eastern perimeter. It supplied the image of grey eyes magnified by oversized glasses. The way her pulse had fluttered in her throat when he’d stepped too close. The sound of her heart, beating a frantic, staccato rhythm that synced with the thudding in his own chest.
Fuck. This is Silas’s fault.
His brother had known exactly what he was doing. Silas played people like chess pieces, and he’d dropped Quinn Bailey into the middle of the board with a smile. Julian had told himself his reaction to her at the elevator was a fluke, a biological misfire. But that illusion had vanished the second he’d walked into the room and seen her again.
It wasn’t just because he’d been too long without...
Without what? A mate?
He scoffed, the sound harsh in the quiet room. He’d stopped believing in that particular fairy tale years ago.
Because of Morgana.
The name still tasted like ash. The memory of his stepmother’s face flickered in his mind—beautiful, composed, and rotten to the core. What she had done to the pack, to his father, and to him had destroyed his faith in the bond. She had proven that "fated" meant nothing against ambition.
The image of Morgana shifted, overlaid by a flash of neon pink hair and a band t-shirt.
His jaw clenched until his teeth ached.
Quinn Bailey was nothing like Morgana. He knew that intellectually. Quinn was a mess. She was awkward where Morgana had been polished, blunt where Morgana had been subtle. Quinn seemed incapable of hiding a single thought; they played across her expressive face like subtitles. She’d challenged him in the hallway—demanded privacy, ground rules, respect—with none of the calculated seduction his stepmother would have employed.
But she was still a woman. Still capable of manipulation. Still a threat to his hard-won equilibrium.
Especially if his wolf continued its current campaign of territorial insanity.
A sharp knock at the door shattered his brooding.
"Enter."
The door opened to reveal Coleman. His second-in-command looked as he always did—like a granite boulder that had learned to walk. His face was a map of scar tissue from too many border skirmishes, built for intimidation. But right now, that scarred face wore an expression Julian couldn't immediately identify.
"Alpha," Coleman grunted. "The human is settled into your office."
"I'm aware."
Coleman’s gaze swept around the small library, noting the displacement. "You could set her up in here instead," he suggested, his voice mild. " plenty of room."
"No. She belongs in my space." The words were out before he could filter them. "It has the necessary infrastructure."
He added the second part quickly, hoping Coleman hadn't picked up on the growl in the first.
Coleman shifted his weight. The movement telegraphed discomfort, which was rare for him. "Some of the younger males are... interested."
The word landed like a lit match on dry tinder.
Interested.
His wolf surged forward, flooding his senses with a possessive rage so pure it turned his vision gold at the edges. Other males. Looking at her. Smelling her. Thinking they had a right to approach—
She is not your mate, he snarled internally, forcing the beast back with a mental shove that left him dizzy. She is a consultant. A temporary inconvenience. Nothing more.
"Interested in cybersecurity?" Julian asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"Interested in her." Coleman’s expression shifted to something uncomfortably perceptive. "She’s attractive, Alpha. Unusual. Smells..." He trailed off, likely seeing the murder in Julian’s eyes. "The young wolves are curious. That’s all."
"Then uncurious them."
"Alpha?"
"She is here to work. Not to provide entertainment for hormonal adolescents who can't control their instincts." Julian was on his feet. He didn't remember standing. His hands were braced on the desk, knuckles white. "Make it clear that Ms. Bailey is under my protection. Anyone who makes her uncomfortable will answer to me personally."
The silence that followed was heavy. Weighted with implications he refused to examine.
Coleman’s scarred face remained carefully neutral, but his eyes were sharp. "Understood. Though if I might point out—putting her in your office and placing her under your personal protection is going to fuel speculation."
"The office is practical," Julian snapped. "It has the power grid she needs."
"It’s also your space."
"Are you questioning my judgment?"
"Never, Alpha." Coleman raised a hand placatingly. "Just noting that the pack will draw conclusions. We aren't subtle creatures."
"The pack can draw whatever conclusions it likes. My decisions aren't subject to gossip." He forced his hands to unclench. Forced his breathing to steady. In. Out. "Is there anything else?"
"Elder Sterling is already complaining about the human presence. You might want to make an appearance before he works himself into a formal protest."
Sterling. Another headache. The eldest of the pack’s council was a traditionalist of the most annoying variety, convinced that any deviation from "the old ways" would bring ruin upon them all. He’d opposed the deal with Silas. He’d opposed the infrastructure upgrades. He would almost certainly oppose Quinn’s presence with every breath left in his ancient, withered body.
"I’ll handle Sterling," Julian said dismissively.
Coleman nodded, turning to leave. Then he paused, hand on the doorknob. "Do you want me to escort the human to dinner?"
He knew the offer was innocent. Standard protocol for a guest.
But his wolf interpreted it as a declaration of war.
A challenge. A claim. Another male putting himself between Julian and what was his—
"No."
The word came out as a snarl. A distinct, animal sound that vibrated in the small room.
Coleman’s eyebrows rose fractionally.
Julian cleared his throat, fighting for a human cadence. "If she needs an escort, I’ll take her myself. It would be inappropriate to send anyone of lesser rank."
"Of course." Coleman’s voice was perfectly neutral. His eyes said something else entirely. Amusement. Understanding. "I’ll see you at dinner, Alpha."
He withdrew before Julian could formulate a response, closing the door with a soft click that somehow managed to sound smug.
Julian stared at the closed door for a long moment. The silence rushed back in, but it wasn't peaceful anymore. It was loud with his own heartbeat.
He dropped back into his chair and buried his face in his hands.
What is happening to me?
He’d spent eight years as Alpha. Eight years maintaining iron control over his instincts, his emotions, his wolf. He was the stone wall the pack leaned on. He had turned down offers from a dozen eligible females—werewolf and otherwise—without a flicker of interest. He had built fortifications around his heart that should have been impenetrable.
One small human, and the mortar was turning to dust.
It’s just attraction, he told himself. A physical reaction. Pheromones. It means nothing.
But his wolf knew better. His wolf had known from the first moment her scent had filled his lungs, from the first press of her small hands against his chest in the lobby. It had known and claimed her in that wordless, absolute way of wolves. Marking her in the deepest part of his soul.
Mate. Mine. Forever.
The instinct to go to her was almost overwhelming. To go back down the stairs, drag her out of that chair, and bury his nose in the curve of her neck where her scent would be strongest...
A sharp cracking sound snapped him back to the present.
He looked down.
His claws had extended involuntarily, scoring deep, jagged grooves into the mahogany surface of the desk.
"Stop," he growled at himself. "She’s a consultant. She’ll be gone in two months. You will maintain control."
His wolf’s response was a wave of longing so intense it bordered on physical pain.
Two months.
Two months of her scent permeating his territory. Two months of watching her interact with his pack, seeing other males look at her with an interest he had no right to forbid. Two months of pretending he didn't feel the pull of her, the gravitational force that his entire being had apparently decided to orbit.
He stared at the ruined wood of the desk.
He didn't know if he’d survive it.