Chapter 4 Welcome to the Obsidian Estate

Mason didn't like waiting.

Especially not for wolves who challenged him in public, invaded his thoughts, and walked into his life like they were owed something just for breathing.

But still, there he was.

Standing at the edge of the Obsidian Estate's main drive, hands in his pockets, jaw set like stone, watching the long winding hill disappear into the trees. Beyond the perimeter, security drones circled slow and silent. Motion-sensitive wards had been tightened. Every sensor on the property was dialed up.

Still, it wasn't enough to quiet the buzz under his skin.

She was late.

Not by much-twelve minutes-but that wasn't the point. Mason operated in a world where time was control, and control was currency. Candace Carter had chosen to arrive on her own clock.

Which meant one thing.

She was setting the tone.

The sleek black SUV finally appeared at the top of the drive, winding toward him like it had nothing to fear. As it pulled in front of the main house, Mason's wolf stirred. Korrin pushed forward, not aggressively-just alert. Curious. Anticipating.

The engine cut off. The door opened.

And there she was.

Candace stepped out slowly, long legs unfolding, heels clicking against polished stone like a countdown. Her dress was black, sleeveless, body-hugging in all the wrong ways that felt too right. Minimal makeup. Lips glossy. Hair straight and smooth, brushing against the curves of her back like silk daring someone to pull it.

She didn't look nervous.

She looked like she'd been here before.

Like she belonged here.

She didn't meet his eyes as she walked to the back and popped the trunk, pulled out a large black duffel and a canvas laptop bag. The kind of gear someone brought to war. Or a takeover.

"I expected you ten minutes ago," Mason said, his voice low.

Candace looked up at him finally, her smile slow and sharp. "Traffic. I didn't rush."

"You could've called."

"I don't chase protocol, Mason. I answer it when I'm ready."

She closed the trunk, adjusted the strap over her shoulder, and walked past him.

Korrin growled low in his chest. Not at her. For her.

She smelled like heat. Like sweat barely buried under floral. Like leather and confidence and jasmine oil on clean, honey-rich skin.

Mason followed without a word.

Inside, the Obsidian Estate was a study in luxury restraint: black marble floors, high ceilings, chrome light fixtures, obsidian tile and smoked glass lining the walls. The air was cold, filtered, still.

Most people-hell, most Alphas-felt overwhelmed stepping into his space.

Candace looked bored.

He walked ahead of her, slow and calculated, letting his voice echo as he pointed out the layout.

"This is the formal entry. Off to the left is the council chamber. I don't expect you to be in there unless summoned."

"I wasn't planning to decorate," she said, glancing at a wall-sized oil painting of the original Obsidian Pack founders.

"Upstairs is restricted. The south wing is mine. Your quarters are in the west-private bedroom, your own bathroom, walk-in closet. Office setup. Clean linens. Lock access is already assigned to your DNA."

"No chaperone?" she asked, a brow raised.

"I don't need one."

"I think you do."

He stopped walking. She did too, several feet ahead of him, framed by the cold steel lines of his estate.

"You're not here to test my patience, Candace."

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes shining with something dangerous. "Then you probably should've mated someone else."

They stared at each other.

It was quiet in the hall. Too quiet.

No hum of music. No foot traffic. No staff moving discreetly in the background.

Just the sound of her heartbeat. Fast. Controlled. Alive.

"You call this home?" she asked.

"It functions."

"Sounds like a sad-ass mansion with a wi-fi signal."

He almost smiled. Almost.

But she was already walking again.

Her quarters were exactly what he said: clean, sharp, minimally touched.

King bed. Slate-gray bedding. Floor-to-ceiling windows tinted against heat and spying eyes. An L-shaped desk setup with wireless charging ports and glass cabinets. A walk-in closet with more empty hangers than any person would ever need.

Candace stood at the threshold for a full five seconds, scanning every inch.

He watched her breathe it in.

"It's a lot of space," she said finally.

"You need room."

"For what?"

"To plan your next move."

Her mouth quirked.

She set her bag down on the edge of the bed, turned slowly. "You think you've got me figured out?"

"I think you're dangerous enough to be monitored, but smart enough not to do anything reckless without calculating the cost first."

"Mm." She tilted her head. "You're not as dumb as you look in a suit."

"Careful," Mason said, stepping closer. "Flattery makes you sloppy."

She didn't back up. Didn't blink.

"You sure about that?" she asked, voice low.

The air tightened.

Korrin pushed forward again, snarling quietly. Wanting. Watching.

Her pupils dilated just slightly. A flex of her jaw. Then-

She stepped back. Cool. Unshaken.

"I'll unpack," she said.

Mason exhaled slowly. Turned. Left her alone.

They didn't speak again until dinner.

The sunroom was quiet, lit by soft amber sconces and the glow of a small fireplace at the far wall. The table was set for two: wine, grilled shrimp and vegetables, saffron rice, something sweet on the far tray that smelled like vanilla and heat.

Candace sat across from him in a different black dress, sleeveless again, neckline low, skin glowing like molasses under candlelight.

She didn't wait to be served. Just plated her food, sipped her wine, and leaned back like she wasn't sitting in the lion's mouth.

"You always eat in silence?" she asked.

"I usually eat alone."

"Tragic."

"Intentional."

She took a bite, chewed slow, watching him. "You think you're unreadable. That this place, this power, makes you unreachable."

He didn't respond.

"But I see it," she said softly. "You're a man living in a fortress built by fear. Not of attack. Of connection."

"Spare me the psychoanalysis."

She raised her glass. "Touched a nerve."

He set his fork down.

"You have three weeks under this roof," he said. "Then the bond is either completed or severed."

"Severed?"

"If we don't claim each other by the full moon, protocol ends."

"You'll let me walk?"

"I'll let you go."

Her lips curled, slow and cruel. "You say that like you'll still be able to."

Later that night, Mason stood in the shower with his hands braced against cold tile, water pouring over his back like it could wash off the day-or her.

It didn't.

He hadn't stopped thinking about the way she walked into his space like she'd built it herself.

Or the way Korrin responded to her wolf, Imani. No resistance. No threat. Just want.

He dressed in silence, poured two fingers of whiskey, and stood at his window.

Moonlight cast shadows against the polished floor.

Then-

He heard it.

Bare footsteps.

Slow. Soft.

She was walking past his bedroom.

No reason. No need.

Just a reminder.

Mason stepped into the doorway, eyes narrow.

Candace didn't pause. She didn't speak.

But her eyes-those dark, rich eyes-shifted briefly.

Violet shimmered in their depths.

Imani.

Just a flicker.

Just long enough for Korrin to snap to attention and growl low inside his chest.

Mine.

Then she was gone.

Down the hall.

No words. No touch. Just a ripple through his senses that made Mason close his eyes and grit his teeth.

She wasn't trying to seduce him.

She was claiming space.

And if he wasn't careful, she'd take the whole damn house with her.