Chapter 3

Darius' POV

I was on my way to meet the new tutor the servants had found for my adopted daughter when it happened, 

a pull.

A pull I couldn’t control.

A pull that dragged me along with it, deep into the pit of my being.

Maya, my adopted daughter, was barely eight years old. I couldn’t let her join the normal schools like the rest of her age mates. I couldn’t even allow her to be tutored by just any woman.

Last year, when her father, my uncle, died, I had dismissed all suspicions surrounding his death. I had even believed his wife innocent. But a few months ago, when I almost lost Maya when her own mother tried to use her as a sacrifice in a ritual for power, i came to realize the truth. She was a rogue. Worse, the daughter of the rogue leader and Maya's blood was needed by them.

It had been excruciating saving Maya from my uncle’s widow, but in the end, the woman had escaped. I had only managed to save the little girl. Her mother still roams free. I don’t know her whereabouts. I only know she’s out there, waiting and hunting.

So I have no choice but to keep Maya safe. Hidden within the pack. Away from curious eyes. And for her education, I had been searching for a tutor, someone trustworthy. But each time, there was always a problem.

The first tutor I hired tried stealing from me the moment she entered the pack. The second? She turned out to be a rogue wolf in disguise, one of Melissa’s pawns, sent to kidnap Maya right out of my grasp.

That was when I was advised: only employ humans.

Humans couldn’t be compelled by rogue ties the way wolves could. Since then, my search narrowed. That was what brought me here, away from the Ironclaw Pack, to interview the one candidate I had been referred to.

“Stop the car, Tibet,” I ordered my beta, who was driving me.

“Alpha, we are in the middle of the road. There’s no way we can stop here, there will be a, ”

“Stop the car!” I growled, louder this time, cutting him off.

His hands tightened on the wheel, but he obeyed. The car screeched to a halt, abruptly blocking the road. Horns blared, angry voices rose from other drivers, chaos erupting as traffic stalled.

I ignored it all.

I stepped out, my boots hitting the pavement with purpose. My wolf’s growl reverberated inside me. I was from the Blood Moon Pack and it was rare, almost impossible, for us to be granted mates by the Moon Goddess. It had been decades since my first mate died, decades of emptiness, of silence, of believing I would never feel that bond again.

Yet now… my wolf was howling in my head. Pulling. Leading.

To her.

Our second-chance mate.

I kept walking, the pull stronger with each step. Vehicles screeched, swerved, and stopped around me, horns blaring, tires burning against the asphalt. Drivers shouted, cursed, demanded I move.

But I didn’t stop.

I didn’t care.

I walked unflinching, as if the world itself had no power to halt me. The pull was all that mattered. The mate bond was calling and I would follow.

They wouldn’t understand. They were humans, how could they possibly understand what was happening to me? My wolf was leading me, dragging me toward someone with an invisible pull I couldn’t fight, even if I wanted to.

I was stunned when the pull stopped in front of a club.

“A stripper?” I whispered under my breath, the word tasting like disbelief. My second-chance mate… a stripper? The irony cut into me. Why would the Moon Goddess pair me with someone like that?

I shoved the thought aside. No matter what I felt, I needed to know who it was. Whether a stripper or something worse, I had to see. Wolves did many things in places like this and I had to face whatever fate had thrown at me.

I pushed open the doors and the thick scent of alcohol hit me immediately. Music pounded, bodies swayed, laughter and shouts filled the air. None of it mattered. My wolf howled louder in my chest, and my eyes scanned the crowd relentlessly, searching.

Then I saw her.

A lady sat at the counter, a glass of alcohol in her hand. She lifted it with trembling fingers, her posture broken and tired.

“No,” I muttered. It couldn’t be her. She wasn’t a wolf, her scent was too human, too fragile. How could she possibly be my mate?

Was this some cruel joke? Some twisted trick?

I turned away, refusing to accept it. If the Moon Goddess wanted to make my mate a stripper, fine but not a human. Not a weak human. I wouldn’t accept that.

I tried to ignore her, but the pull only grew stronger, my wolf clawing at me from the inside. The room was filled with noise and scents, yet none of them matched what I was searching for. Nothing. No wolf. No bond, except her. The human my wolf wouldn’t stop screaming about.

When I finally turned back, she was leaving. My chest tightened. I scanned frantically, searching the crowd again, but no, she was slipping away.

“No,” I muttered to myself. “No, I can’t let her go.”

I pushed through the crowd and found her at the exit. She was swaying, tipsy, shockingly tipsy, considering I had only seen her drink a single glass. Her body leaned forward, about to fall, 

And instinctively, I caught her.

“Are you alright?” The words slipped from me, harsher than I intended, as I stared at her. She said nothing, only stared back with an expression I couldn’t place. Something between fear and recognition.

I repeated, softer this time. “Are you alright?”

But before I could read her, she leaned in, and kissed me.

I froze. The taste of her lips lingered, unfamiliar yet burning, my wolf clawing wildly inside me. He was urging me to claim her, to mark her, to make her mine. I resisted, my jaw tight, fighting the primal hunger that surged through me.

And then she kissed me again.

This time, I broke.

I kissed her back with a hunger I hadn’t felt in years. My control shattered; my restraint burned to ash. The passion devoured me whole, my wolf howling his approval.

The words left my lips before I realized, guttural and raw:

“Should we get a room?”

I didn’t even know when I asked. But when she nodded, when she gave me her silent permission, my last wall crumbled.