The charity auction hall was packed with the city’s elite — human power players mingling with those who hid fangs and claws beneath tailored suits. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over silk gowns and expensive tuxedos, while the faint scent of champagne and expensive perfume hung thick in the air.

Nikolai Volkov stood near the back wall, a glass of aged whiskey untouched in his hand. He hadn’t wanted to attend. But Marcus had insisted it was necessary for maintaining public image after the recent tensions with the Voss family. Lana was supposed to be on his arm tonight, but she had begged off with a headache, leaving him uncharacteristically alone.

He regretted it the moment Elena Voss walked into the room.

She wore a floor-length gown of deep emerald silk that clung to her curves like liquid sin before flowing gracefully to the floor. The color made her hazel-green eyes glow with flecks of warm amber. Her chestnut hair was styled in loose waves that cascaded over one bare shoulder, and a delicate diamond pendant rested just above the swell of her breasts.

The moment she entered, her scent hit him like a physical blow.

Vanilla. Jasmine. Warm sunlight after rain.

Nikolai’s wolf *exploded* to the surface.

The beast slammed against his control with savage force, snarling and howling with raw, desperate need. *Mate. Mine. Touch her. Claim her.* His body reacted instantly — blood rushing south, muscles tightening, every instinct screaming to cross the room, throw her over his shoulder, and take what belonged to him.

He gripped the whiskey glass so hard the crystal creaked.

Elena’s gaze found him across the crowded hall. For one electric second, their eyes locked. The fated mate bond flared hot and violent between them. Nikolai saw the way her breath hitched, the subtle flush that crept up her elegant neck. She felt it too. He knew she did.

She turned away first, lifting her chin with that quiet, infuriating dignity that drove him insane.

Nikolai couldn’t stop himself. He prowled through the crowd, his powerful frame cutting through people like a shark through water. The cedarwood and wild forest scent of him preceded him, making several lesser wolves bare their necks instinctively.

He stopped just behind her as she examined a silent auction item — an ancient painting. Close enough that her scent enveloped him completely. Too close.

“Elena,” he said, voice low and rough, laced with that faint Slavic accent.

She stiffened but turned slowly, meeting his gaze with composed poise. Up close, the pull was unbearable. Her warmth radiated toward him. His wolf lunged harder, filling his mind with vivid images — pinning her against the wall, burying his face in her neck, sinking his teeth into her soft skin while she moaned his name.

“You’re attending without your *savior* tonight?” Elena asked softly, her voice like velvet over steel. There was hurt beneath the words, but also challenge.

Nikolai’s jaw clenched. “Lana isn’t feeling well. Not that it concerns you.”

“Everything about you concerns me,” she whispered before she could stop herself. Her cheeks flushed immediately. “Because of the bond. You feel it too. Don’t you?”

The admission hung between them like smoke.

Nikolai stepped closer, backing her against the display table. The crowded room faded away. All he could focus on was her — the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat, the way her full lips parted slightly, the intoxicating scent that made his cock throb with painful need.

His wolf was losing control.

“I feel nothing but irritation,” he lied, voice dropping to a dangerous growl. But his body betrayed him. He leaned in, one hand bracing on the table beside her hip, caging her without touching. “Yet every time you’re near, my wolf goes feral. Why is that, Elena? What kind of game are you playing with me?”

Elena’s breathing grew shallow. Her healing gift stirred beneath her skin, aching to reach out and soothe the storm raging inside him. The fated mate pull was a living flame between them — hot, demanding, undeniable.

“I’m not playing any game,” she breathed, tilting her head up to meet his burning silver-flecked gaze. “You’re the one refusing to see what’s right in front of you.”

Nikolai’s free hand rose almost involuntarily. His knuckles brushed the bare skin of her shoulder — just the lightest touch. Electricity surged between them. Elena gasped softly. Heat pooled low in Nikolai’s belly, his wolf roaring in triumph at the contact.

He wanted her.

Gods, he *needed* her.

His gaze dropped to her lips. So soft. So close. The scent of her was driving him mad — sweet, warm, *his*. He leaned in slowly, helplessly, until their breaths mingled. Inches away from the kiss his wolf had been demanding for days.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, voice wrecked.

Elena’s eyes fluttered half-closed. “I can’t…”

Their lips were a heartbeat away when—

“Alpha Volkov!”

A sharp voice cut through the haze. Marcus appeared at Nikolai’s side, his expression urgent. “We have a situation. Silverfang scouts were spotted near the eastern border. They’re testing our lines again.”

The interruption shattered the moment like glass.

Nikolai jerked back as if burned. Reality crashed over him — the crowded hall, the watching eyes, the woman he was publicly rejecting yet nearly kissing in plain sight.

Elena’s cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She looked dazed. Beautiful. *His.*

Nikolai stepped back sharply, running a hand through his raven hair. His wolf howled in furious protest at the loss of her proximity.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said harshly, though his voice was rough with unreleased desire. “Stay away from me, Elena.”

He turned and stalked away, shoulders rigid, leaving her standing there with trembling hands and a heart that felt both full and shattered.

---

That night, alone in his penthouse, Nikolai couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his massive bed, chest bare, black silk sheets tangled around his hips. The city lights filtered through the windows, casting silver patterns across his scarred torso. His body still burned from the near-kiss. Elena’s scent clung to him like a ghost.

Sleep finally claimed him in a restless haze.

---

**The Dream**

Rain pounded down on cold asphalt. Nikolai lay broken and bleeding, silver fire spreading through his veins. Pain consumed everything.

Then came the hands.

Soft. Warm. Glowing with golden light.

They pressed against his torn chest, chasing away the agony. A gentle voice whispered through the storm, “Stay with me… my Alpha.”

Chestnut hair soaked with rain. Hazel-green eyes filled with determination and something deeper. The hands moved over his body with tender care, healing what should have been fatal wounds. The touch was heaven. The scent of vanilla and jasmine wrapped around him like a promise.

He reached up, pressing the Moonshadow Medallion into those glowing hands.

“Mine…” he rasped.

The woman smiled — Elena’s smile — soft and radiant.

Nikolai woke with a violent start, bolting upright in bed. His chest heaved, skin slick with sweat. His cock was painfully hard, straining against the sheets. His wolf howled inside him, frantic and possessive.

“Fuck,” he growled into the darkness, dragging a hand down his face.

The glowing hands in his dream… they weren’t Lana’s.

They were Elena’s.

And for the first time, Nikolai Volkov could no longer deny the truth his wolf had known from the beginning.