Watching from the Shadows Part 3

I reached out with the magic that permeated this place, the same power that kept the roses blooming and the lights dancing through the forest. The gates responded to my will, ancient mechanisms stirring to life with the smooth precision of clockwork that had never known rust or wear.

The sound of their opening carried clearly across the courtyard—not the grinding protest of metal against metal, but a whisper of perfectly balanced forces moving in harmony. Catherine stepped back slightly, but she didn't flee. Didn't even flinch.

She's accepting it, I realized with a mixture of relief and growing hunger. Whatever she sees, whatever she feels, she's choosing to stay.

The gates swung wide, revealing the entrance hall beyond. I'd deliberately kept the interior lighting warm but subdued, knowing that too much grandeur at once might overwhelm her already strained composure. Better to let her adjust gradually to the impossible reality that awaited within.

But as she stood there at the foot of the steps, trunk in hand, I found myself fighting the urge to descend and greet her properly. The wolf wanted to claim her immediately, to establish dominance and ownership before she could reconsider her presence here. The man wanted to offer comfort, reassurance, whatever courtesy might ease her transition from the mortal world to mine.

Both impulses were dangerous for different reasons.

"Kieran." Lucas's voice carried a note of warning. "Your scent is changing. She'll be able to smell your wolf if you don't control yourself."

He was right. The closer Catherine came to the castle, the harder it became to maintain the careful balance between human and beast. My body was preparing itself for a claiming that my mind knew was premature, possibly disastrous.

But rational thought felt increasingly irrelevant as I watched her lift her trunk and begin to climb the steps. Each footfall echoed across the courtyard with the finality of fate sealing itself. She moved with deliberate grace, neither hurrying nor hesitating, as if she understood the weight of this moment as clearly as I did.

She belongs here, the certainty whispered through my mind again. This isn't captivity. This is homecoming.

At the threshold, she paused. Her head tilted slightly, and I knew she was sensing something—the pulse of power that ran through every stone of this place, perhaps, or the weight of eyes watching from the darkness beyond.

Look up, I willed her silently. Look up and see me watching. Know that you're not alone.

But she didn't look up. Instead, she squared her shoulders and stepped across the threshold, disappearing into the shadows of the entrance hall.

And that was when her scent reached me.

The wind had shifted, carrying her essence up from the courtyard to the high balcony where I stood. It hit me like a physical blow—rose and rain and something indefinably her that made every cell in my body scream with recognition.

Mate.

The word echoed through my consciousness with the force of revelation. Not just desire, not just attraction, but the bone-deep certainty that this woman was what I'd been searching for through decades of loneliness. The missing piece that would make me whole again.

My vision went red around the edges. My hands gripped the stone balustrade so hard I heard it crack. Every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to go to her, to claim her, to mark her as mine before another second passed.

"Easy," Lucas said, his voice sharp with alarm. "Kieran, you need to control this. She's barely through the door."

Control. The word felt foreign, meaningless. How could I control a response that went deeper than conscious thought? How could I fight instincts that had been building for twenty-seven years of enforced celibacy?

"She smells like..." I started, then stopped. How could I explain what her scent meant to the wolf? How it called to something primal and possessive that recognized its mate with perfect, terrifying clarity?

"Like trouble," Lucas finished grimly. "She smells like trouble for everyone involved."

No, I thought fiercely. She smells like salvation.

But even as the thought formed, I could feel my control beginning to slip. The wolf was rising, drawn by proximity to what it considered its destined mate. My teeth ached with the pressure of fangs trying to emerge. My hands had sprouted claws that left deep gouges in the ancient stone.

"I need to see her," I said, my voice rougher than I'd intended. "Need to... greet her properly."

"You need to stay exactly where you are until you can be trusted not to terrify her," Lucas corrected sharply. "One look at you like this and she'll run screaming back into the forest."

Let her try, the wolf snarled. Let her try to leave and see how far she gets.

The thought was ugly enough to shock me back toward human rationality. This was exactly what Lucas had warned me about—the curse's ability to twist even genuine feeling into something dark and possessive.

But the scent was still there, still calling to every instinct I possessed, still promising that everything I'd ever wanted was finally within reach.

Soon, I promised the restless wolf. Soon we'll claim what's ours.

The beast settled slightly, appeased by the promise if not satisfied by the delay. But I could feel it watching, waiting, ready to surge forward the moment my guard dropped.

From below came the sound of footsteps on marble, steady and unafraid, as Catherine Montgomery walked deeper into what would either be her prison or her home.

Time would tell which it proved to be.