CHAPTER 1

Seliene

"If you throw another bottle, I’m banning your pack for a month."

The werewolf across the bar bares his teeth at me, amber eyes flashing in the dim light. Ugh. Drunk alphas. I don’t even flinch.

"You can’t do that," he slurs.

I slam my palms on the counter, leaning forward until my dark curls shadow my glare. "Watch me, Derek. This isn’t your territory, it’s mine. And in my bar, you follow my rules."

A hush falls over the crowd. Even the rowdy fae in the corner pause their poker game to watch.

Derek’s beta, Jax, tugs him back with an apologetic grimace. "She’s right, man. Let’s just go."

I toss a rag over my shoulder and watch as they slink out, the door swinging shut behind them. The tension evaporates, and the usual hum of laughter and clinking glasses returns.

"Remind me never to piss you off," murmurs Ellie, my human bartender, as she slides a whiskey toward a waiting vampire.

I smirk. "Smart girl."

The Howling Oak isn’t just a bar, it’s neutral ground. A place where Others and the few humans brave enough to linger can drink without pack politics or blood feuds ruining the mood. And I’ve spent the last five years making sure it stays that way.

No alpha commands. No mate bonds. No bullshit.

Just good liquor and the kind of peace you can only find when you’re nobody’s problem but your own.

I duck into the backroom to grab more tonic water. When I return, Ellie is chatting with a selkie in his human form while pouring tequila like a pro. I let her handle the front for a minute and retreat to the far end of the bar to count receipts and give myself a moment to breathe.

Running this place wasn’t the life I imagined back then. Back before I clawed my way out of the underground, but it’s mine now. I built it brick by bloody brick. And nothing, nothing, is going to drag me back into chains.

Especially not a mate.

My wolf stirs at the thought, restless. I shove her down like I always do. I’ve managed to avoid a bond this long, and I’ll keep doing it. No one gets to own me again. Ever.

"Hey, Seline!" Ellie calls. "You’ve got a guy eyeing you like he wants to order or propose."

I glance up, expecting the usual overly confident shifter.

But the man now sitting at the far end of the bar isn’t usual.

He’s tall and lean, dressed in fitted grey slacks and a crisp black shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up. His hair is tousled in that way that seems too perfect to be accidental, and even from here, I can see the sharp cut of his jaw. There’s something still about him, like a hunter who knows he doesn’t have to chase, prey comes to him.

He’s not looking at Ellie.

He’s looking straight at me.

Our eyes meet for a heartbeat too long. I should look away. I usually do. Men don’t faze me. Flirting barely registers after years of hard stares and rough hands. But this one?

I feel... pulled.

There’s no smile. No nod. Just quiet intensity as he watches me with eyes that seem to miss nothing.

I clear my throat and head his way, keeping my pace steady.

“Evening,” I say. “What can I get you?”

His lips twitch, almost a smile. “What do you recommend?”

His voice.

Gods.

It hits me like honeyed smoke, warm and rich with the kind of resonance that makes your spine hum. My wolf stirs again, not wildly like before, but with something quieter. Intrigued. Curious.

I blink, momentarily forgetting my mental menu. “Whiskey. Neat. You look like someone who doesn’t play with mixers.”

He nods, still watching me. “Good guess.”

As I pour his drink, I feel the weight of his gaze lingering on my hands, my face, my every movement. It’s not the sleazy kind of attention I’m used to. It’s different. He looks at me like he’s trying to figure something out. Like I’m a puzzle he didn’t expect.

When I place the glass in front of him, our fingers brush. Barely.

But a jolt sparks up my arm.

I straighten sharply, frowning.

He noticed it too. I can tell from the way his jaw tightens. But he doesn’t react otherwise. Just takes the drink and leans back in the seat.

“You always work behind the bar?” he asks casually.

“It’s mine,” I reply. “If someone’s gonna keep the peace, might as well be the owner.”

He raises his glass in a slow salute. “To peace, then.”

I nod, but I’m already backing away. Something about him is too calm. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your instincts scream.

Back at the register, Ellie gives me a look.

“You okay?” she whispers.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

But I can still feel the echo of his voice like it’s been etched behind my ribs. My wolf paces just under my skin, tail flicking. Uneasy.

Who the hell is he?

A few more customers come in. The regular rhythm of the bar resumes. Still, I glance toward the mystery man every few minutes.

He never looks away for long.

Ten minutes later, I’m drying a pint glass when the door swings open again.

I expect another pack wolf or a stray vampire

But the moment the new figure steps in, my breath hitches.

This one… feels different.

The man is broad-shouldered, darker hair, wearing a faded hoodie and jeans like he doesn’t want attention. But I feel him before I see him. A strange ripple in the air. Something… deeper.

My wolf lifts her head.

And not in curiosity this time.

In recognition.

But I don’t know him.

My hands freeze on the glass. The bar noise fades.

For a second, all I can hear is my heartbeat and the sound of boots on wood.

The man walks past the booths, scanning the room, and then

He stops.

Looks straight at me.

A flicker of confusion crosses his face. A mirror of the one twisting in my chest.

Something passes between us.

Not fire.

Not lightning.

More like a rope wrapping around my ribs, invisible and sudden.

My wolf steps forward.

What is this?

I don’t move. Neither does he.

It’s not attraction. It’s not instinct.

It’s something older.

Something I don’t have a name for yet.

From the far end of the bar, the first man, the one in grey pants finally turns his head.

And his eyes narrow.