Chapter 7 At First Sight

Lucius's POV

As I drove her home, the woman beside me sat in tense silence, but my mind was replaying the first time I'd seen her, barely a day ago.

She'd pushed open the bar door, walking in as if swept by a sudden, violent gale. Her scarlet dress, clinging to every curve, showcased an alluring figure. Golden hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders, framing a face of striking beauty-fair skin, delicate features, and prominent tear stains streaking her cheeks.

I'd taken one look, then returned to my drink. After all, she was just an ordinary human girl, and therefore, inconsequential to me.

I am a werewolf. My father, the formidable Alpha of the Black Moon pack, had strategically established our companies within human society. I had spent years studying business management abroad, preparing for my destiny. Next month, I would officially assume my father's mantle as the new Alpha, a role that brought me back to this world, and naturally, made me the new CEO of the Watson Group.

As the future Alpha, my Luna-my chosen mate and partner-must be a powerful werewolf woman, capable of leading our pack alongside me. Besides, I had always preferred the strength and companionship of our own kind. So, despite the undeniable pull I felt towards her that night, I didn't approach immediately.

My wolf, Raven, however, was unusually agitated.

Talk to her, Raven urged, his voice a low thrum within my mind. (As werewolves, we communicate with our wolf through mind links, no need for spoken words.)

She's just a human. What's so special about her? I countered, trying to quell his insistence.

She's ours, our mate, Raven replied, a powerful certainty in his tone.

I watched her as she drowned her sorrows, one vodka after another. Even across the smoky room, a subtle fragrance-a blend of wild flowers and warm vanilla-wafted from her, calling to me, though faintly.

Let's go, Raven urged again, his agitation growing.

I had no choice. Ignoring Raven was a fool's errand; if he took control, the situation would only escalate. Reluctantly, I finished my drink, the amber liquid suddenly tasteless, and walked over to her.

Women had never been scarce in my life, a benefit, I supposed, of my looks and status. Soon enough, she ended up in my bed. When I slipped off her dress, her body was truly stunning. A slim waist, full, generous hips, long, elegant legs, and breasts that were simply perfect.

She was a virgin, completely inexperienced, yet sex with her brought an unprecedented, almost primal satisfaction. Her body seemed made for mine, fitting me in ways I had never experienced. I lost count of how many times I took her, yet the insistent hunger within me remained unsated.

To be honest, even now, recalling those moments, I can still taste the salt and sweetness of her skin, feel the consuming warmth of her embrace.

But the next morning's cold shower, a necessary ritual for clarity, brought me crashing back to reality. She was human. Humans didn't understand our world, the ancient responsibilities, the immense burden I carried. A human Luna could destroy everything. She couldn't lead the pack, couldn't possess the inherent strength and wisdom a werewolf mate needed.

I won't let you reject her! Raven howled within me, a furious, indignant protest.

I rubbed my temples in frustration. Raven could be impossibly stubborn.

I tried not to argue with him. Raven, my wolf, was a creature of instinct, driven by primal desires, and he kept insisting she was my fated one. But my parents, while meticulously grooming me to be an excellent Alpha, had drilled one undeniable truth into me: the pack always comes first.

When I walked out of the bathroom, my decision was made. I planned to dismiss her with money, a cold, transactional gesture, as I'd done with other women who had shared my bed. But before I could, she preempted me, humiliating me first. She threw a hundred and fifty dollars in my face, insulted my performance in bed, and treated me like a prostitute.

Before I could even fully react, she had fled. I was furious!

Yet, despite her hasty retreat, she still ended up in my grasp. Who would have thought she was an employee at my company? The moment I stepped into the meeting room that morning, I caught her unique scent, a subtle mix of defiance and vulnerability. Watching her nervous expression from across the room, I maintained my cold, impassive facade, mentally telling Raven, Look how scared she is now. She was so bold this morning.

Raven, perverse as ever, purred contentedly within me. Isn't she delightful? She's got spirit, challenging us like that.

I closed my eyes helplessly for a second, fighting the urge to roll them dramatically, a gesture that would betray my inner turmoil to the human executives around me.

After the meeting, I had my subordinate call her to my office-she had slipped out earlier, a ghost in the crowd. I had fully intended to deliver a stern lecture, to put her firmly in her place. But when I saw those big, beautiful, innocent blue eyes again, my resolve inexplicably softened.

It must have been Raven's influence, his persistent fascination with her. When she got close to me, the urge to pull her into my arms was overwhelming, a powerful instinct I barely restrained. Instead, I threw her own insults back at her. I wanted to add something cutting, like, "If I was so bad in bed, why were you moaning so passionately last night?" But I didn't want to tarnish my carefully cultivated image too much, so I held my tongue.

To assimilate into human society, my father had cultivated friendships with powerful figures from all walks of life. He had even fought in human wars, forging unbreakable bonds with a few comrades-in-arms.

That afternoon, I attended a birthday gathering for one of his old war buddies in his stead. I never expected to run into Claire there, a stroke of incredibly bad luck or perhaps an undeniable twist of fate.

Claire didn't seem to get along well with her father's side of the family. At the dinner table, the way that man-her father-kept glancing at her, eyeing her with a proprietorial disdain, made my blood boil. I wanted to gouge his eyes out. But it turned out he was her ex-boyfriend. God, Claire has terrible taste in men.

I watched her argument with her father's family escalate into a physical altercation, a shocking display that gave me new insight into her character.

She was strong-willed and defiant, her temper as fiery as her body was hot.

When her father had slapped her, a primal roar had clawed its way up Raven's throat. I wanted to rush over, to beat the man senseless. But this was clearly a family matter, and my Alpha upbringing, my rigid self-control, prevented me from interfering. If she were my mate, I could intervene, the thought had flashed through my mind, startling me with its intensity. Had I developed such strong protective and possessive feelings for her?

After she stormed out of the birthday party, a whirlwind of righteous fury, I quickly made my excuses and left too. I followed her in my car, keeping a careful distance, close enough to overhear her conversation with her pathetic ex-boyfriend.

With my enhanced werewolf hearing, I caught every word. Her ex had cheated on her with Emma, that walking plastic surgery advertisement from the party? What an idiot her ex was. They talked about a proposal. Was Claire truly that eager for marriage? The thought irked me.

I was about to drive away, to put distance between us and reinforce my logical decision to avoid her, but then I caught the faint, unmistakable scent of tears in the cold night air. Was she crying? I let out a frustrated sigh, a sound of resignation, and pulled my car up beside her.

Now she sat beside me, her unique floral and vanilla scent enveloping me, filling the confined space of the car. Raven purred contentedly within my mind, a soft, satisfied rumble.

Seeing her swollen face, the angry red mark, I handed her some healing herbs-a potent salve we werewolves used for injuries, a remedy I was intimately familiar with from countless training sessions.

Her eyes were red, still brimming with unshed tears, as if she were still profoundly upset. I didn't quite understand. What was so heartbreaking about a cheating man? Was that why she'd stumbled into the bar last night, drowning her sorrows in vodka as if it were water?

The thought pissed me off. Had she just used me in bed as some kind of replacement, a convenient way to forget her ex? No wonder she'd treated me like a damn call boy.

I'd tested her, thrown her words back at her: "So, you were drinking your sorrows away last night, begging me to take you home, because your boyfriend betrayed you?"

And what did she say? "Professional boundaries. One-time thing."

She was the first woman who had ever dared talk to me like that, drawing lines as if I were some insignificant nobody. I, an Alpha, a billionaire, with women chasing after me left and right, and I had to chase her, a plain human girl? Even if she was my fated mate, so what?

I wouldn't let her affect me. I couldn't. My pack, my future, depended on it.