Feeding Ducks

Stella’s POV:

The tiny apartment in Warsaw felt smaller than usual today. Maybe it was the gray clouds hanging low over the city, or maybe it was the fact that I hadn't left these four walls in three days. 

My job translating old texts for the Polish Historical Society allowed me to work remotely—a blessing for someone like me who preferred not to be found.

I stretched my legs across the worn couch, absently flipping through television channels. Nothing interested me until I landed on the international news channel, where a familiar face made my finger freeze on the remote.

Orion Lockwood. Even through the screen, his presence was commanding—tall, broad-shouldered, with those piercing blue eyes that hadn't changed in a thousand years. He stood at some glittering event, a stunning redhead on his arm, speaking confidently to reporters.

"...attribute our success to meaningful connections we've cultivated..."

His voice sent an electric current through my body, awakening memories better left buried. 

Memories of hands stained with blood, of being treated like a possession rather than a person, of a love so consuming it had been more like worship than partnership.

"Isn't that your mate?!" Harper's voice shattered my trance. She sat beside me, a bowl of chips balanced on her lap, her eyes wide with recognition.

I jabbed the power button, plunging the room into blessed silence. "He is no such thing to me."

Harper raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Stella, we've been over this. He is your destined mate that you see in your visions and your visions don't lie."

I took a deep breath, fighting back the images that threatened to overwhelm me. 

The curse of being a seer—memories of past lives weren't fuzzy dreams or vague sensations. They were vivid, technicolor experiences that felt as real as anything in this life.

I remembered it all. How Alpha Orion Lockwood had conquered half the known supernatural world. How he had claimed me as his prize, keeping me locked away in his fortress for "protection." How he had controlled my every move while simultaneously worshipping the ground I walked on.

He had been a possessive lover. 

And yes, how he had loved me—with a ferocity that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

"No," I said firmly, more to myself than to Harper. "I don't have a mate."

Harper sighed, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "You can't deny the mating bond forever, Stell."

"Watch me," I muttered.

Most werewolves spent their lives hoping to find their fated mate. I'd spent the last five years actively avoiding mine. When my seer powers had first manifested at eighteen, I'd been bombarded with visions of my past life—and of the man who was destined to be my mate again in this one.

That's when I'd made the decision never to set foot in America, especially New York. Poland was safe. Poland was my birth land. My pack members, my family and friends lived here - and I am safe with them. 

"It is the mating bond, Stella," Harper insisted, brushing chip crumbs from her sweater. "You can't stay away from it for long. These things have a way of bringing people together whether they want it or not. Such situations will be formed automatically - even if you like it or not."

I stood up, suddenly feeling too confined in the apartment. "We'll see about that."

Half an hour later, bundled in thick winter coats, scarves, and boots, Harper and I trudged through the frosted paths of Lazienki Park. The evening air bit at my cheeks, and I burrowed deeper into my scarf.

"I swear this country gets colder every year," Harper grumbled, her Australian accent more pronounced when she was annoyed. "Remind me again why I shouldn't just shift to New York?!” 

"Because you're the best friend a girl could ask for? And you don't want to leave me," I offered, linking my arm through hers. "And because you're writing your dissertation on Eastern European werewolf packs?"

"Right," she nodded. "Academic glory. That's what keeps me here, not your charming personality."

We reached the pond where a few hardy ducks still lingered before migration. I pulled a paper bag of stale bread from my pocket and began tearing off pieces.

"They say feeding bread to ducks is bad for them," Harper noted, even as she took a handful to toss.

"These are supernatural ducks," I replied with a straight face, even though it wasn't true. There was no such thing as it. "Different digestive systems."

Harper laughed, the sound carrying across the quiet park. "You're so full of it."

We stood in companionable silence for a while, watching the ripples spread across the dark water. Twilight descended rapidly this time of year, the park lights flickering on around us, casting long shadows across the frost-covered ground.

"So," Harper began in that casual tone that never preceded anything casual, "the International werewolf Summit is happening in London next month."

I stiffened. "And?"

"And I think we should go." She held up a hand before I could protest. "Hear me out. My doctoral advisor got me press credentials to cover it for the Supernatural Anthropology Journal. I can bring a research assistant."

"No." The word came out sharper than I intended.

"Stella, you can't hide in Poland forever."

"Watch me," I repeated, lobbing a piece of bread with unnecessary force.

Harper turned to face me, her expression serious. "Are you really going to let fear of one man—however powerful he might be—keep you from experiencing the world? You're a seer and werewolf, Stella. One of the rarest supernatural beings alive. Your insights could help so many people."

"My insights are exactly why I need to stay hidden," I countered. "I don't want to be seen by Orion Lockwood or any of them in my life. They all literally played me.” 

"That was then," Harper said softly, as if reading my thoughts. "This is now. You're not the same person you were in that life. And from what I've read about Orion Lockwood, he's not the same either."

I laughed bitterly. "You don't speak up for him.”

"Maybe not." She shrugged. "But London is a big city and Orion Lockwood lives in New york. What are the chances you'll ever cross paths with him in a city where he doesn't even live?!”

The last of the bread gone, I stuffed my hands into my pockets, considering her words. “What if he comes there for a business trip or something like that?!”

Harper sighed. “Oh my God! You are impossible.”

As I chuckled at her, a part of me—a small, curious part I usually tried to ignore—wondered what it would be like to see him in person. 

Would I feel that legendary pull of the mating bond? Would he recognize me 

somehow, despite never having met me in this life?

"You could wear a disguise," Harper suggested, sensing my wavering. "Dye your hair, wear colored contacts and do some spell enchantments from a witch to conceal your scent. No one would know it's you.”

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, but with less conviction.

"What's ridiculous is letting fear dictate your life," she countered. "You're Stella freaking Glazewski, descendant of the most powerful seer bloodline in Eastern Europe. Act like it."

We started walking again, our boots crunching on the frozen path. Night had fallen completely now, the park illuminated by ornate lamps that cast pools of golden light onto the snow.

"If—and that's a big if—I were to consider this insane plan," I said slowly, "I'd need guarantees. No interaction with the American delegations. No attending any social functions. I'd be there purely as your assistant, invisible and anonymous."

Harper's face lit up with triumph. "So that's a yes?"

I sighed, already regretting my moment of weakness. "It's an 'I'll think about it.'"

"That's practically a yes in Stella-speak!" She hugged me impulsively, nearly knocking us both off the icy path. "Trust me, it'll be an adventure. First things first, let's work on your disguise. It is going to be my duty that no one can recognise you.”