Chapter 3

*Adele's point of view*

That afternoon, I stayed in bed until Cindy returned with my dinner.

At first, we ate in silence. Then she smiled at me, shy and uncertain, and somehow we started talking. One question led to another, and before I knew it, the room felt warmer.

Cindy was my age. Twenty. She had not found her mate yet. Her pack had been destroyed by rogues, and Demarion had taken her in afterward. Serving in his household was her way of repaying that debt.

She was quiet around strangers, careful with her words. But once she relaxed, she laughed easily. Her stories came out fast, full of little surprises. I could not understand how she had not found a mate. She was beautiful. Soft blonde curls framed her face, stopping just at her neck. Her blue eyes were bright and kind. She stood taller than me, graceful without trying.

By the time she finished clearing the tray, I already liked her.

Eventually, she had to leave. The door closed, and the quiet returned.

My thoughts drifted, as they always did, to the handsome problem I could not escape. Demarion filled my head without permission. Strong. Cold. Infuriating. Attractive in the most unfair way.

Hot and irritating at the same time.

I rolled onto my side and stared at the wall until sleep finally took me.

That night, half awake, I thought I felt an arm wrap around my waist. Warmth spread through me. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. But when morning came, the bed was empty.

I told myself it was just a dream.

The days passed quickly after that.

Cindy showed me around the pack. I met people. I learned names. Smiles came easily. Laughter followed. Everyone welcomed me, all except two.

Serena and Demarion.

Serena watched me with sharp eyes. Her jealousy showed in every tight smile. No one liked her. Wolves avoided her when she entered a room. She carried cruelty like a scent, and everyone smelled it.

Demarion was worse.

I did not see him at all.

He was never at breakfast. Never at dinner. Always training or locked away in his office. Each time I asked, Cindy gave the same answer.

“He is busy.”

The distance felt wrong. My chest ached in ways I did not understand. I hated him for rejecting me, yet I missed him just as much. Being away from him felt like standing too far from a fire you needed to survive.

So I made an excuse.

Cindy led me to his office. My heart thudded harder with every step. I knocked and waited.

Nothing.

I knocked again.

“Come in.”

His voice was rough, controlled.

I opened the door and immediately turned to close it behind me, giving myself a moment to breathe. When I turned back, his eyes were already on me.

“May I help you?” he asked.

His tone was sharp.

“I was wondering,” I began, then stopped. My words tangled together.

“Look at me when you speak,” he said. “And speak clearly.”

I swallowed and forced myself to breathe. “I have been here for a few days. I was hoping I could train with the female warriors. I have nothing to do.”

“No.”

The answer was instant.

“Why?” I asked, startled.

“Because I said so. If that is all, you may leave.”

The dismissal stung.

“Can I get a job, then?” I asked quietly.

He paused. “Where?”

“The pack clinic. I helped as a nurse in my old pack. I can handle paperwork and help patients.”

“Patients,” he repeated. His eyes darkened. “That includes my warriors.”

“Yes,” I said. “And women. And children.”

His jaw tightened. “You think I will allow you to care for my men?”

“I just want to help,” I said.

In the blink of an eye, I was pressed against the door.

His hand wrapped around my throat, not crushing, but firm enough to steal my breath. His face hovered close, his voice low.

“You will not be near my men.”

My heart raced.

“You want a job?” he continued. “You will work for me. As my personal maid.”

The words stunned me.

“Understood?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

His hand dropped. He stepped back as if pulling away from something dangerous.

“Get out.”

I did not hesitate.

I left his office with shaking legs and did not slow down until I reached my room. Even then, my heart kept racing long after the door closed.

I sat on the bed, breathing hard, knowing one thing for certain.

Being his mate was going to hurt more than I ever imagined.

I stood with my back pressed against the door, forcing myself to breathe. My chest rose and fell too fast, my hands trembling at my sides. Being his personal maid was not an option. I did not even know what that meant, and I did not want to find out. The thought of being that close to him made my stomach twist.

I had to change his mind.

Before I could talk myself out of it, my feet were already moving. I found myself outside his office again. I paused there, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. You can do this, I told myself. My knuckles rapped softly against the door.

“Come in.”

His voice slid through the wood, low and commanding. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. I opened the door and stepped inside.

He looked up, a slow smirk spreading across his face. His eyes held something playful, almost amused.

“Need something else?”

“No,” I said quickly, then corrected myself. “Well, yes. I came to ask if I could work at the clinic instead. Not as your personal maid.”

The teasing look vanished. His expression hardened, dark and sharp.

“And why is that, mate?”

The word landed heavy. He had never called me that before, and the way he said it made it feel like an insult.

“Because you do not want me,” I said quietly. “You have made that very clear. So why not keep me out of your way?”

Each word felt like glass in my throat.

He let out a short laugh, cold and humorless. “Trust me, there are many things I want to do with you. But you are right. I do not want a mate. I do not want you. So what are you suggesting?”

My chest ached. I swallowed hard, fighting the burn behind my eyes.

“I can work any shift,” I said. “I can help anyone. Children, women, men, elders. I will work late if needed. I just want to be paid.”

He studied me in silence. Then his gaze dropped. Slowly. Heat crawled up my neck as I became aware of my clothes. My bare shoulders. My shorts. His eyes lingered before lifting again.

“Fine,” he said. “But I have rules. I can show up anytime. When I call you, you come immediately. Whatever I say goes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, my voice barely there.

I did not wait for dismissal. I turned and left.

Relief mixed with confusion twisted inside me. He wanted me close enough to control, but far enough to reject. I did not know how long I could live like that.

I was so lost in thought that I did not see where I was going.

“Watch where you are going, slut.”

The shove came out of nowhere. I stumbled back, shock snapping into anger.