The mystery guy

Evelyn’s POV

The day after tomorrow was my ovulation window, and tonight I was flipping through medical profiles of men—not one, not two, but dozens—because I needed the father of my future child.

And no, it wouldn’t be my husband.

Of course, all of the male escorts were handsome, some muscular, with wide beaming smiles—captivating profiles that most women would have found irresistible. But not even to my surprise, none of them were good enough for me. If I were anyone else, I might have chosen long ago.

Alex sat across from me, pushing sheet after sheet toward me with that annoyingly patient look of his. My chin rested in my palm, my eyes scanning each candidate only to dismiss them with a sigh.

“This one looks too arrogant.”

“Too soft.”

“Too clean—he looks like he spends more time on his face than I do.”

And the one that made Alex nearly choke: “This one, he’s okay…but still no.”

Alex held back his retorts, though I caught the flicker of irritation in his eyes. Still, he knew better than to argue. His task wasn’t to second-guess me. His job was to help me make the best choice, even if my standards frustrated him.

As much as my rejections probably made him want to scream, he did his best to anticipate what I wanted. Yet every suggestion he slid across the table ended up dismissed with a smart remark or a roll of my eyes.

“Are you one hundred percent sure that there aren’t any other options?” I asked finally, my tone calm but laced with disappointment.

I wasn’t desperate. I wasn’t searching for love, or for some fairy tale romance. That part of me was long dead. What I wanted was simple: good genes, anonymity, a clean transaction. I wanted a child, but not with Wyatt. Never Wyatt.

As if on cue, I recalled a bitter memory.

That day, I had come home earlier than usual, fatigued and tired from work. The lights in our bedroom were still on, revealed through a slight crack on the door.

I had pushed it open—and froze.

He was there. My ex-husband. The man I had once called mine. Wyatt. Sprawled across our bed. And beside him—her.

She was Judy, a contracted artist from his company.

Nothing had happened yet. I could see it in the way she jolted upright, scrambling from the sheets like a guilty child caught stealing. Her hair was tousled, her face flushed. But it didn’t matter. The sight was enough to break something inside me.

I could tolerate indifference. I could even stomach cruelty. But another woman in our bed? That I could never forgive.

She had stammered something about escorting Wyatt back, about how he’d been drunk and she was just making sure he got home safely. Plain lie, pathetic lies.

And then his voice—slurred but sharp, had spoken

“You’re nothing without me, Evelyn. Nothing. Just leave, and you’ll see—the tribe will pay the price. You and your pack depend on me for survival.”

The humiliation I had experienced made me speechless. That was the moment I knew: he didn’t value me the way I did. Unless I found a way out. Unless I made sure I had something—someone—he could never humiliate me in that manner.

So, in general, and more than want or vengeance— a child was a necessity. In my pack, inheritance was bound by bloodlines. Without an heir of my own, the property, the mines, the very legacy of my pack would slip from my hands and into other hands.

If I was going to safeguard everything I had built, everything my family would be remembered for, I needed a child. My child.

I skimmed the remaining profiles without much hope, already knowing I’d reject them. My heart wasn’t stirred by their smiles or bodies. None of them would do.

Then Alex hesitated. I noticed the flick of his eyes to his phone, the way his fingers tapped before he cleared his throat.

“I have this other person,” he said carefully. “But he has certain conditions.”

My brows arched. “Conditions?”

“Yes. He insists that the lights stay off… when you have sex.”

I tilted my head, amused. That was it? Not exactly shocking. Not exactly a deal-breaker either. My lips curved, a trace of curiosity slipping through. “That’s all? Hardly something to make me say no.”

I saw relief flicker across Alex’s face, though his eyes gave something else away. If only I could read his thoughts in that moment, perhaps I would’ve paused. Perhaps I would’ve asked why he looked like he was swallowing down a secret.

Instead, I leaned back, considering the offer. My pulse quickened, though I told myself it was only because the anonymity intrigued me. A faceless man, nameless, out of reach. It almost made the whole thing easier.

Alex leaned forward, his professional smile sliding back into place. “Shall I make the arrangements then?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “Do it.”

He nodded, and I caught the way his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than usual, as though words burned at the tip of his tongue but never came out.

If I had pushed, perhaps he would have told me. Perhaps I would have realized that this wasn’t just some donor from a file. That he wasn’t just some stranger agreeing to a condition in the dark.

But I didn’t.

And Alex kept his silence.

Some secrets, it seemed, were meant to stay hidden.

Honestly, was there any big deal with having lights on or off?

To begin with, I already lived with night blindness. If the room was dim, making elongated shadows, I couldn’t tell a chair from a man. And I had learned long ago to shrug it off.

So when Alex mentioned this strange condition, I thought: Perfect. I wouldn’t be able to see him anyway.

Also, I knew Alex always saved the best for last. He knew what I wanted and what I disliked. That came from spending a period beside me. He had been loyal too, so I trusted him.

I walked slowly down the hallway as I approached the appointed room. It was in a high-end hotel, discreet, and expensive enough to guarantee secrecy of the meeting.

For a brief moment, my hand hovered over the door handle, double-checking with my mind if I had made the right choice.

Then without further hesitation, I pushed the door open.

The room was dark, as promised. And before I could even take two steps inside, arms came around me from behind. Strong. Firm. Possessive.

The man’s scent flooded my nostrils immediately.

It wasn’t perfume nor cologne. Something rawer. Something pure and natural. The musky scent of a male, wild and strong. My body reacted before my brain could, a shiver racing down my spine.

I swallowed, attempting to regain my composure. “How long have you been in this line of work?”

A low chuckle brushed against my ear, vibrating through my bones. “You’re my first.”

I almost rolled my eyes. Please. Men like him didn’t just happen to be virgins in this line of work. “Sure you are.”

But his grip didn’t falter, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt heat rise up on the low of my belly at his words.

No. Focus, Evelyn. You came here for one reason. A practical and transactional one. You needed his DNA, not the overwhelming emotions.

“Then let me be clear,” I said, turning just enough to project authority. “When you’re with me, I’m the only one.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then his voice again, deeper this time. “Then I expect the same. You’re mine, when you’re with me.”

The way he said mine pulled at the thread of me I kept knotted and private. There was an ownership in it — not crude or possessive, but clean, like a vow. It woke a question I hadn’t meant to ask: Why would he demand such exclusivity?

The suggestion was brazen, almost reckless — and yet there was something perversely fitting about it. I’d never planned to see another man after this. Why should he?

My breath hitched. My pulse thudded a little faster, not from fear but from the sudden, electric possibility of being wanted in a way that matched my own strict terms.

I lifted my chin, sighing loudly to mask the way my pulse jumped. “We’ll see. If you aren’t… satisfactory, I’ll find someone else...”

I didn’t even finish the sentence before the world tilted.

One moment I was standing, the next his arms scooped me effortlessly, my back against his chest, my feet leaving the floor. The sheer speed, the power in that movement—I gasped, instinctively clutching his shoulder.

“W-wait—”

Too late. He set me down against the mattress, his weight hovering above my form, caging me in. Even in the darkness, I could feel him. Heat radiating, strength unspoken, the kind of dominance no ordinary man could fake.

My heart pounded. This was supposed to be controlled. Businesslike. But as his breath fanned my neck, I realized control might not belong to me anymore.

In that instant, I wanted to see him, see his face.

I could still hear my assistant’s voice echoing in my head: He has one request—the lights must stay off.

Fine. The dark was safe. In the dark, I didn’t have to see him. That way, nothing could arise between us.

And yet, some part of me whispered—what if the truth wasn’t something to fear? What if the truth was him, this presence that gave rise to a feeling I never knew?

My body trembled, not from fear, but from something far more dangerous.

For the first time in a long time, I felt the wolf inside me stir.

And the night was just beginning.