Page 12 of Seas the Day
Time fractured around him like glass hitting stone. One moment Thalric was drowning in strategic calculations and his wolf’s demands, the next a sharp rap against his office door sent his entire body into rigid alertness. The sound cut through his mental spiral with surgical precision, and he found himself doing something that had never happened in five years of leadership—he actually startled.
What the hell?
His wolf’s energy spiked dangerously close to the surface, feeding off the cocktail of anticipation and barely controlled need that had been building since dawn. Every primal instinct screamed at him to leap from his chair, to tear open that door and claim what belonged to him, but years of disciplined control held him frozen in place.
“Come in,” he managed, his voice carrying the authoritative tone he’d perfected even as his hands gripped the edge of his desk.
The door opened with deliberate care, and Alira stepped through first—her calm, soothing presence a stark contrast to the chaos raging inside him. Behind her came a petite woman in a turquoise pantsuit who could only be Gerri Wilder, her snow-white bob catching the morning light streaming through his windows. But it was the scent that hit him like a freight train—citrus bright and vanilla warm, so concentrated now that his wolf threw itself against his mental barriers with desperate hunger.
She’s here. Right outside this door. Mate.
“Alpha Thalric,” Alira said with her characteristic grace, “this is Gerri Wilder.”
His mate’s scent was so overwhelming that Thalric barely registered the introduction, his entire being focused on the doorway where he knew she waited. Every cell in his body vibrated with recognition, with need, with the primitive demand to claim and protect and possess.
“I’ll go ensure Navira’s guest suite is perfectly prepared for her arrival after your meeting,” Alira continued, her silver-blue eyes flickering with something that might have been concern at his obvious tension.
“Thank you, Alira,” he forced out through a jaw that felt wired shut, watching his estate attendant retreat with her fluid grace.
EIGHT
THALRIC
The moment the door closed behind her, Gerri stepped forward with the confidence of someone who’d orchestrated this exact scenario countless times before. But there was something in her expression—a flicker of uncertainty that seemed foreign.
“Thalric, I need to tell you—Navira is a bit anxious about all this,” Gerri began, her words tumbling out faster than her usual measured pace. “I didn’t exactly provide full disclosure about why she’s really here. I told her she was coming to coach elite swimmers, but I didn’t mention the mate bond or?—”
The rest of her explanation dissolved into white noise as the door opened again andshewalked in.
Time stopped.
Thalric’s carefully constructed world tilted off its axis as his mate stepped into his office, and every strategic thought, every calculated plan, every ounce of control he’d spent years building crumbled to dust. She was absolutely stunning—her silk blue blouse hugged curves that made his mouth go dry, while her fitted black jeans showcased legs that belonged wrapped around his waist. Her long, dark brown hair caught the light like liquid silk, but it was her eyes that destroyed him completely.
Clear blue and brilliantly alive, they locked onto his storm-grey gaze with an impact that reverberated through his bones. In that instant, his wolf threw back its head and howled in recognition, the sound echoing through his mind with primal certainty.
Mate. Mine. Perfect.
She moved closer with unconscious grace, her body responding to the same magnetic pull that had his feet carrying him around his desk without conscious thought. The mate bond stretched between them like a live wire, crackling with electricity that made the air itself seem charged with possibility.
“I’m Alpha Thalric,” he managed, extending his hand even as his instincts screamed to forget politeness and pin her against the nearest wall. “Welcome to my home and to Nova Aurora.”
Her lips curved in a smile that was radiant. “I’m Navira.”
The sound of her name on her own lips was like music, like prayer, like everything he’d been unconsciously searching for his entire life. But when her hand touched his in what should have been a simple handshake, the mate bond exploded through his system with the force of a hurricane.
Mine. Complete the bond. Mark her.
Control shattered like ice under pressure. His fingers tightened around hers with possessive strength, and before rational thought could intervene, he was pulling her closer until mere inches separated their bodies. Her citrus and vanilla scent wrapped around him like a drug, and his wolf surged forward with desperate need.
“You are my perfect mate,” the words tore from his throat with raw honesty that would have horrified his strategic mind if he’d been capable of strategic thinking in that moment.
The instant the declaration left his lips, she yanked her hand from his grasp and stepped back as if he’d struck her. The loss of contact felt like losing a limb.
“What do you mean by ‘perfect mate’?” Her voice carried a sharp edge that cut through the haze of possession clouding his judgment.
Reality crashed back over him in cold waves as he registered her expression—confusion bleeding rapidly into anger and betrayal. This wasn’t the reaction of a woman who’d come here understanding her destiny. This was the reaction of someone who’d been deceived.
“I hired Gerri to find my mate,” he explained, his strategic mind scrambling to salvage a situation that was deteriorating by the second. “You are my fated mate—the one she found for me. Gerri doesn’t make mistakes.”
