C-5

Chelsea Wren POV

“Stay with me for a few nights.”

Honora Finch plants herself in front of Chelsea at the gates of Wrencrest Media House, arms crossed. Dusk settles over the district.

Chelsea shakes her head. “I can handle Cressida. She does not scare me.”

Honora’s brow furrows. “That half-blood will not stop. Your pack residence is her territory right now. One call and I am there. Promise me.”

“I promise. Go home. I will be fine.”

Honora searches her face one last time, then sighs. “All right. Text me when you get in.”

They part. Chelsea turns toward the street.

A black pack vehicle glides to the curb. The rear door opens. Angus Reid steps out and bows his head.

“Luna Crowhurst. The Alpha is waiting.”

Chelsea’s steps freeze for half a second. She slides into the back seat. Alastair Crowhurst sits like the vehicle was built around him, dark eyes already on her.

The door shuts. The vehicle pulls away.

Chelsea glances sideways. “You did not leave after the meeting?”

“I waited.” His voice is calm, almost lazy.

Her wolf stirs. “Why?”

“I want to know how my Luna prefers to mark the first night of our mate bond.”

The words land like a direct hit. Chelsea’s pulse jumps. Heat floods her neck.

“Celebrate the first night? I… I have not thought about it.”

They signed the registry for strategy, not heat. She never pictured sharing a bed. The way he watches her makes her wonder if he expects exactly that.

Alastair’s mouth curves, slow and knowing. “A mate bond is a sacred connection. Leaving the first night empty feels incomplete.”

Chelsea’s fingers tighten on her bag. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“What do you think I am suggesting?”

Her cheeks burn. “I do not know. What do you want to do?”

He shrugs, the picture of ease. “Exploring new ground is a habit of mine. This is a partnership. I refuse to treat the night like a formality. We should at least share a meal.”

Chelsea blinks. “Dinner? That is all?”

“Of course. Unless you had something more interesting in mind.”

The teasing glint in his eyes is unmistakable. Chelsea wants the seat to swallow her. She had leapt straight to knotting and claims. He only meant food.

Her voice comes out smaller than she likes. “Dinner is fine.”

“Good. Angus already reserved a private table. The pack kitchen keeps the best cuts for alphas.”

Chelsea’s mind races. Moving into the estate tonight. A public meal on their first bonded evening. The scandal still burning across every news feed.

Alastair’s next words cut through the silence. “Your half-blood sister will not stop with a press gathering. She already leaked the photos. Next she will aim higher.”

Chelsea’s head snaps toward him. “You know about that?”

“I know everything that touches my Luna.” His tone stays level, but the undercurrent is pure Alpha steel. “That is why we are eating in public tonight. Let the packs see the Crowhurst mate bond is already sealed. Let Cressida Wynn choke on it.”

The vehicle slows. Outside the window the glowing sign of a private dining house comes into view.

Alastair’s phone lights up on the seat between them. He glances at the screen, then turns it so Chelsea can read the single line from Angus.

Lord Emeric is demanding the new Luna’s presence at the estate before midnight. He already knows the registry seal is real.

Chelsea Wren POV

“Stop laughing, Angus.”

Alastair’s single glance freezes the aide in the front seat. The tremor in Angus’s shoulders dies instantly.

Chelsea’s cheeks still burn. The car feels too small. Her wolf paces under her skin, half embarrassment, half something sharper.

Alastair turns his head just enough to meet her eyes. “You do not need to worry. I will not touch you or claim any rights until you are ready. That is a promise.”

The words settle the worst of the heat in her face. Chelsea lets out a quiet breath.

Everett used to push. Hint. Corner her with soft pressure before any mate bond was sealed. Alastair holds the higher rank and still offers her the choice. The comparison cuts deep and leaves a strange warmth behind.

“Thank you, Alpha.”

“You are welcome.”

The vehicle slows. Alastair glances out the window. “We are here.”

Chelsea looks. A private glass restaurant rises against the dark hills outside the city, built so diners can watch both the city lights and the open sky. Reservations usually take a full moon cycle.

Alastair is already out and opening her door.

Chelsea steps down, suddenly aware of her plain work clothes. “You could have told me the place. I would have changed.”

His gaze moves over her once, unhurried. “You look fine. Natural beauty does not need extra fabric to prove itself.”

The blunt compliment startles a real laugh out of her. The first one in days.

“I did not know the Alpha of Crowhurst practiced flattery.”

A faint flicker of surprise crosses his face, as if the words surprised him too. He does not answer. Instead he guides her inside with a light touch at her back that never quite becomes a claim.

The private table sits nearest the glass wall. Candles. Fresh night-blooming flowers. A small string quartet in dark pack formal wear already playing low. The moment they sit, dishes begin to arrive.

Foie gras. Deep red soup. Smoked steak. Vanilla cream dessert. Every single plate is something Chelsea has ordered a hundred times on her own.

She freezes with her fork halfway to her mouth. “You chose all of this?”

Alastair’s eyes stay on hers. “Of course.”

The quiet care in the answer lands harder than any grand gesture. Everett never remembered her favorites in ten years. This male has known her name for one day and the table is already set with everything she likes.

Warmth spreads under her ribs, unexpected and dangerous.

“Thank you… Alastair.”

The name feels strange on her tongue.

He sets his glass down. “Appreciation accepted. But try again. Alpha is for the packs. Between us, use my name.”

Chelsea blinks. “Alastair?”

“Better. Still a little formal. Take your time. I can wait.”

A small, satisfied curve touches his mouth.

Before she can answer, Angus appears at the edge of the private section, expression carefully blank. He leans down and speaks only to Alastair, but the words carry just far enough.

“Lord Emeric is already at the estate. He refuses to leave until he meets the new Luna in person. He brought the original mate bond registry copy and a seal of his own.”