The Email

Adrian woke reaching for her.

His arm moved across the sheets before his mind fully surfaced, seeking warmth, softness, the small body that had spent the last hours tucked against him as though she had always belonged there.

His hand found nothing.

Cool linen.

Empty space.

Adrian’s eyes opened. 

For one second, he did not move.

Then he sat up sharply.

“Harmony?”

The room answered with silence.

Gray morning light pressed against the windows. The city stretched beyond the glass, wide awake and indifferent. The room service cart still stood near the sitting area, abandoned plates covered in silver lids. One of her shoes was no longer beneath the chair. Her carry-on was gone.

Adrian swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.

“Harmony?”

He checked the bathroom first. Empty. Then the sitting room. The entry. The second bedroom he had promised her and they had never used.

Nothing.

She was gone.

His wolf rose in a violent rush.

Find her.

Adrian gripped the edge of the desk until the command stopped shaking through him. He drew in one breath, then another, forcing control into his body by sheer will.

She had not been taken.

No one had hurt her.

Harmony had chosen to leave.

The truth should have calmed him.

It didn’t.

He returned to the bedroom, and that was when he saw it.

A small piece of hotel stationery rested on the pillow beside the space where he had slept. Her handwriting was neat, quick, feminine, and painfully real.

He picked it up.

Thank you for the most impossible night of my life. —Harmony

Below it was an email address.

Adrian stared at the note until the letters blurred at the edges.

She had left.

But she had not disappeared.

His grip tightened around the paper, and the relief nearly took him to his knees.

A way to reach her.

A choice she had given him without fully understanding what she had placed in his hands.

He crossed to his laptop, opened it, and sat at the small desk where she had written the note. For a moment, his fingers hovered over the keys.

There were a hundred things he wanted to say.

You are my mate.

I knew the second you touched me.

You cannot imagine what leaving this room has done to me.

Come back.

He closed his eyes.

No.

Not like that.

Harmony was human. She had walked into his life with laughter in her eyes and London in her hands. She had given him one night because she wanted it. Because she trusted him. Because she believed it could be beautiful and temporary.

He would not turn that trust into a trap.

He began to type.

Subject: You left before I could say goodbye

I should let you go.

A better man probably would.

But I need you to know something. Last night was not casual for me. It may have felt impossible because, for me, it was.

I won’t come after you unless you ask me to.

But if you start dreaming of me, if you feel me when you wake, if the world feels wrong unless I’m near—write back.

I’ll come.

—Adrian

He read it once.

Then sent it before he could make it safer.

The message vanished from the screen.

Adrian sat back.

The room felt too large without her. The bed too wide. The city too loud through glass that should have kept sound out.

He pressed his palm over the ache beneath his ribs, right where the bond pulled hard enough to make breathing feel deliberate.

His wolf wanted the airport. A scent trail. A gate number. A flight manifest. Any path that ended with Harmony back in his arms.

Adrian stayed in the chair.

A mate taken without choice was no mate at all.

If she called, he would come.

If she never did, he would carry the loss.

But he would not make her freedom smaller just because fate had made his desire enormous.

Across the ocean, Harmony landed in London beneath a sky the color of pearl.

By the time she reached her new apartment, exhaustion had settled into her body, but excitement kept breaking through it in bright little bursts.

London.

She was actually here.

Her company accommodation sat on the third floor of a narrow brick building with a black front door and flower boxes under the windows. The apartment was small, clean, and already furnished. A pale sofa. A round table just big enough for two. A bed with white linens. A compact kitchen with shiny appliances and exactly four mugs arranged in a perfect row.

It looked temporary.

It looked hers.

Harmony stood in the doorway with her suitcase behind her and let herself smile.

This was the life she had worked for.

Not the furniture, not the address, not even the job title waiting for her on Monday morning. This. The moment when she stepped into a room in a new country and knew she had carried herself here.

She rolled her suitcase inside and closed the door.

The quiet wrapped around her.

For a while, she let herself be practical.

She found the Wi-Fi password on a laminated card near the router. She opened windows to let in the city air. She checked the drawers, the closet, the little stack of company welcome papers on the counter.

Then she started imagining what she could add.

A yellow throw blanket, maybe. Something cheerful. A plant near the window if she could keep it alive. A framed print over the table. A better lamp. A bowl for keys. A place that looked less like corporate housing and more like Harmony had arrived.

Her life was here now.

She should have been completely absorbed in it.

Instead, every few minutes, her thoughts returned to a hotel room in New York.

Adrian’s hand at her cheek.

His mouth against hers.

His low voice saying her name as though it mattered.

You’re mine.

Harmony stopped in the middle of the small kitchen and pressed her fingers to her lips.

A laugh escaped her, soft and disbelieving.

“What are you doing?”

No one answered.

Of course no one answered. She was alone in her new London apartment, talking to herself because one night with a man from Montana had apparently undone her ability to act normal.

No.

Not undone.

She shook her head and opened her suitcase.

It had been one night.

A breathtaking night. A reckless night. A night she would remember forever in private, probably with a ridiculous smile and the occasional concern that no future date would survive the comparison.

But still.

One night.

She unpacked with unnecessary determination.

Clothes in drawers. Shoes in the bottom of the closet. Toiletries in the bathroom. Her laptop on the small table. Charging cord plugged in. Passport tucked into the safe. Work notebook beside the welcome folder.

Only when everything had a place did she allow herself to open her laptop.

Her email loaded.

Harmony told herself she was checking for work updates. Arrival instructions. HR forms. Maybe a welcome note from her new team.

She was absolutely not looking for Adrian.

Then she saw his name.

Her whole body went still.

The subject line waited in bold.

You left before I could say goodbye

Harmony sat down slowly.

For a moment, she only stared at it.

He had written.

Of course he had written. She had left her email. That was the point. Maybe. She had not known what she wanted when she wrote it. A thank-you. A thread. Proof that the night had not dissolved the second she walked out of the suite.

She clicked.

The message opened.

I should let you go.

A better man probably would.

Her throat tightened, and she kept reading.

By the time she reached the end, the apartment seemed quieter than before.

But if you start dreaming of me, if you feel me when you wake, if the world feels wrong unless I’m near—write back.

I’ll come.

Harmony read the email again.

Then a third time.

“What does that mean?” she whispered.

Dreaming of him?

Feel him when she woke?

The world feeling wrong?

It was beautiful. Too intense. Maybe a little dramatic, if she was being honest. Except Adrian had not felt dramatic. He had felt steady. Grounded. Honest in a way that made even impossible words difficult to dismiss.

Last night was not casual for me.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

She should answer.

Something light, maybe. Something charming and safe.

I’m in London. I made it. Thank you for everything.

No.

Too formal.

I didn’t know how to say goodbye.

Too honest.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

Absolutely not.

Harmony shut the laptop.

Then opened it again.

Then shut it.

She stood and walked to the window, staring down at the narrow street below. Cars moved in the wrong direction. A woman in a red coat walked a small white dog. Somewhere nearby, a siren rose and faded.

London was happening all around her.

Her new life had begun.

So why did part of her feel as if she had left something essential in New York?

Harmony turned back toward the laptop.

Adrian’s email waited on the screen.

She did not understand what he meant.

Not really.

But that night, when she finally crawled into bed in her clean, small, company-furnished apartment, with London breathing beyond the windows and Adrian’s words still burning through her mind, Harmony began to find out.