สาววิศวะ กับ หนุ่มบริหาร (NC 18+)

(Vivian's POV)

The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils as I finished bandaging the young wolf's arm. Being head healer at the Pack Medical Center meant my days were filled with everything from minor scrapes to life-threatening emergencies.

"All done, Tommy. Next time, maybe don't challenge the older pups to a climbing contest," I said with a gentle smile.

The young boy nodded sheepishly before scampering off. I sighed, removing my latex gloves when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Emma's name flashed on the screen.

"Hey Em, what's up?" I answered.

"Viv! Have you heard? He's back!" Emma's voice practically vibrated through the phone.

My heart skipped a beat. There was only one "he" that Emma would refer to with such excitement. My mate. My husband. The man I hadn't seen in over three years.

"Sylvan is back in the territory?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral despite the sudden flutter in my chest.

"You didn't know? It's all over the pack forums and human media! Even the business channels are buzzing about his return." Emma sounded genuinely shocked. "Vivian, he's your mate. How could you not know?"

I let out a small, humorless laugh. "You know how it is, Em. Sylvan rarely shares his whereabouts with me."

The mate bond between us had been dormant for so long that sometimes I wondered if it existed at all. My wolf, Phoebe, whimpered softly in my mind at the thought.

"Well, his return is making huge headlines—both in pack circles and the human world. The famous founder of Blood Moon Slayers coming home after conquering the business world! It's major news."

Like everyone else in the pack, I'd learned about my husband's accomplishments through second-hand sources. The creation of Blood Moon—a werewolf assassination organization with ties to the human mafia—had shocked everyone, especially me. The quiet, intense wolf I'd married had become a legend while I remained here, healing bruises and broken bones.

"I'm sending you something," Emma said, and my phone pinged with an incoming message.

It was a picture of Sylvan walking into pack headquarters. My breath caught in my throat. Three years had sharpened his appearance-a sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a well-tailored suit under broad shoulders.

"He looks even more handsome, doesn't he?" Emma's voice held a teasing note. "Half the unmated she-wolves are already plotting how to catch his attention, even though everyone knows he's mated to you."

I stared at the photo, feeling the familiar ache in my chest. My wolf stirred restlessly, yet our mate bond remained stubbornly silent.

"I've got to go, Em. Thanks for letting me know."

After ending the call, my thoughts raced as I gathered my things and left the medical center, driving to the villa Sylvan and I shared.

The timing couldn't be worse. I had just dismissed our housekeeper Martha last week, telling her to take a long-overdue vacation.

Despite everything, a small part of me felt excited. It had been three years since I'd seen my mate in person. Maybe things could be different this time.

I stopped at the local market, picking up fresh ingredients for dinner. If Sylvan was coming home, I would make his favorite meal—grilled salmon with roasted vegetables and lemon risotto.

Two hours later, our spacious kitchen was filled with delicious aromas. I had changed into a simple blue dress that brought out the unusual golden color of my eyes—a feature that made my wolf Phoebe quite distinctive among our pack.

But as the clock ticked by, the food grew cold, and the villa remained empty. No sign of Sylvan.

I tried calling his cell. No answer.

I sent a text message: "Heard you're back. Made dinner."

Nothing.

In desperation, I even attempted to reach him through our mate bond—that mysterious connection that was supposed to unite true mates. As always, I felt nothing but silence in return.

Frustrated, I opened the Wolfpack forums. Sure enough, Sylvan's right-hand man, Lucas, had posted a picture-he was at the Crescent Club.

The image showed Sylvan relaxed in a booth, drink in hand, surrounded by his Blood Moon associates. A beautiful she-wolf with flowing red hair leaned close to him, her hand resting intimately on his arm. Everyone was smiling, celebrating.

While I sat alone in our empty home.

I turned off the screen, stored the uneaten food with mechanical movements, and then ate a small portion of it myself, even though it tasted like ashes.

Later, I retreated to our bedroom—a room Sylvan had barely used during our brief time living together before he left. I changed into my nightgown and slipped under the covers, Phoebe whimpering softly in my mind.

How had we ended up like this? An arranged marriage that neither of us had wanted, orchestrated by Elder Margaret for reasons I still didn't fully understand.

Sleep eventually claimed me, bringing dreams of happier times—when Sylvan and I had first been introduced, those few precious months before our relationship had soured.

(Sylvan's POV)

The Crescent Club pulsed with energy.

"To the return of our leader!" Lucas raised his glass, his loyalty evident in both gesture and scent.

My Blood Moon brothers joined the toast, glasses clinking as amber liquid swirled. I took a measured sip, savoring the burn of the aged whiskey.

"So what's the plan, boss?" Marcus leaned forward, always eager for the next mission. "Expanding Blood Moon's territory further north?"

I set my glass down, eyes scanning the private area we'd reserved. "The northern packs have been making noise about our operations. It's time we established a more permanent presence there."

My wolf, Logan, rumbled approvingly in my mind. He had always been the more aggressive part of me, ready for conquest and territorial expansion.

"Any chance we'll see your mate tonight?" another Blood Moon member asked, a newer recruit whose name escaped me at the moment.

Lucas snorted. "Vivian at the Crescent? Please. The pack's precious healer doesn't frequent places like this."

The way he said her name—with thinly veiled contempt—made Logan bristle. But I maintained my composure, swirling the whiskey in my glass.

"Your mate is the head healer?" The female wolf beside me moved closer, her perfume strong enough to make my nose twitch. "I didn't realize you were mated."

I tilted my head toward her, noting the obvious interest in her eyes. "Is the mark not visible enough?" I touched the side of my neck where the mate bond had left its physical signature three years ago.

"Oh, it is," she purred, leaning closer. "I just thought perhaps... arrangements in your position might be different."

Logan growled in my mind, but I silenced him. After three years apart from my so-called mate, what did it matter if I enjoyed some harmless flirtation?

"You're much prettier than my mate," I told her with a practiced smile, watching her eyes widen at the compliment.

It was a lie, of course. No wolf in any territory could compare to Vivian's beauty. The pure white of her wolf form with those unusual golden eyes that carried through to her human appearance—she was uniquely stunning.

"I doubt that's true," one of my older Blood Moon associates commented. "Everyone knows Vivian Bennett is the most beautiful she-wolf in the territory. Even the Sterling Pack's Alpha daughter can't compare."

My jaw tightened. Logan paced restlessly in my mind, suddenly alert at the mention of our mate.

"I need some air," I announced, standing abruptly.

Lucas looked concerned. "Everything alright, boss?"

I nodded curtly. "Continue celebrating. I have some business to attend to."

Outside in the cool night air, Logan's emotions were getting the better of him, "I want our MATE!",he growled. It had been three years and apparently Vivian was just around the corner and his patience was running out. He wanted to see our mate, even if I wasn't particularly eager for a reunion.

My driver James was waiting with the car. "Home, sir?" he asked as I slid into the back seat.

"Yes," I replied, knowing I couldn't put off the inevitable any longer.

As we drove through the territory toward the villa, I wondered what awaited me there. Would Vivian be awake? Would she care that I had returned? Our parting had been cold, our marriage little more than a political arrangement.

Yet Logan's excitement grew with each mile closer to home. Unlike me, my wolf had never doubted our mate bond with Vivian.

(Vivian's POV)

In my dreams, I could feel Sylvan's tender kisses from our tagging days. Those precious few weeks when we'd been almost happy together. When his lips would brush against mine with surprising gentleness for such a powerful wolf.

The sound of my bedroom door being opened woke me up instantly. The smell of fresh rainwater on forest soil was Sylvan.

I sat up and half-squinted as I watched Sylvan make his way through the darkness. He didn't have a light on, but he didn't need one. We're nocturnal creatures.

"You're back," I said, my voice betraying none of the emotions swirling inside me.

Sylvan paused, ice-blue eyes finding mine in the darkness. "I am."

"I called. I texted. You could have let me know you were coming home." I sat up, pulling the blanket with me.

His mouth curved into a mocking smile. "Why? Were you hiding men in our bedroom? Needed time to clear them out before I arrived?"

The accusation stung more than I wanted to admit. Phoebe whimpered in my mind, hurt by the implied distrust from our mate.

"That's ridiculous and you know it," I replied, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

Sylvan said nothing, merely pulling out a pair of pajama bottoms from the dresser with practiced efficiency. He moved toward the bathroom, his broad shoulders tense beneath his shirt.

"I made dinner," I said to his retreating back. "You would have known that if you'd bothered to read my messages."

He paused at the bathroom door. "I ate at the club."

With that, he disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, I heard the shower running. I lay back down, a sigh escaping my lips. How had we become such strangers?

I reached for the bond between us, that mystical connection that was supposed to unite true mates. As always, I felt nothing. Phoebe could sense Logan, Sylvan's wolf, but my human half remained disconnected—a result of childhood trauma that had left my wolf unable to fully express emotions through our bond.

Sylvan had never understood this limitation. In his mind, my inability to feel the mate bond was proof I didn't want it—didn't want him.

I left only the bedside lamp burning and tried to calm my racing thoughts. The shower stopped, and minutes later, Sylvan emerged in a cloud of steam, his powerful frame silhouetted against the bathroom light before he switched it off.

The mattress dipped as he slid into bed beside me. His clean scent mixed with the body wash made Phoebe stir longingly. Even after three years, my wolf recognized and wanted her mate.

"Sylvan?" I ventured, turning slightly toward him.

"Go to sleep, Vivian," he replied curtly. "I'm tired."

I was silent, the gulf between us had become deeper after not seeing each other for three years.