He was probably just weird. Rich people were weird. I punched my pillow into submission and forced my eyes closed.
Sleep came eventually, and I dreamed of forests and moonlight and a voice calling my name.
I woke at dawn with my heart racing, and when I looked out my window, just to check, the street below was empty. But on the other side of the street, a shadow moved. I squinted to get a better look, but it was gone.
And for some reason, a sleepy brain or zero survival instincts (maybe I’d used them all earlier), I wasn’t scared. Not like I should’ve been.
4
— • —
Caelan
I was not stalking my mate.
I was conducting strategic surveillance. There was a difference. Stalking implied malicious intent, and my intent was purely protective. Benevolent, even. I was simply ensuring that the woman who was the other half of my soul remained safe while she went about her human life, completely unaware that a werewolf prince was watching her from the shadows.
See? Completely different.
It had been hours since I left the bookstore, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about her for a single second. I couldn’t read, couldn’t focus on the portal mission. I couldn’t do anything except replay every moment of our meeting in my head. Her face was imprinted on the inside of my eyelids.
I needed to see her again. Needed to make sure she was okay, to know where she lived, where she worked, what her daily routine looked like. I needed to find out who that man was and how to permanently remove him from existence.
Normal concerns, completely reasonable.
Thessa thought I’d lost my mind. She was probably right.
“You know,” she said, trailing behind me as I tracked Riley’s scent through the Lysmont streets, “here, in the human world, this is considered criminal behavior.”
“It’s not criminal. It’s thorough.”
“Thorough investigation is still stalking.”
“I prefer the term ‘dedicated observation.’”
Thessa made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You’re going to end up in human prison. Do you know what human prison is like? I’ve seen documentaries. It’s very unpleasant. Orange jumpsuits, communal showers, terrible food, no natural light.”
“I’m not going to prison.”
“That’s what all the criminals say. Right before they go to prison.”
I ignored her. The scent trail led to a building on the edge of downtown, a tattoo shop called Ink & Iron with an apartment above it. My wolf settled at the discovery, satisfied to know where she lived. Where she slept. Where I could find her if needed.
Which I wouldn’t need to do. Because I wasn’t stalking her.
I was just memorizing the location. For emergencies.
“Oh no,” Thessa said, following my gaze to the fire escape on the building across the street. “I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m about to do something stupid’ look.”
“I don’t have a look.”
“You absolutely have a look. Father gets the same one right before he makes a terrible diplomatic decision. It’s genetic.” She squinted at my face. “You’re wearing it right now.”
The building across the street had a fire escape that led to a rooftop with a perfect line of sight to her apartment windows. Not that I was considering climbing it. That would be excessive. That would be the behavior of someone who had completely lost control of their faculties.
I climbed it.
“Caelan!” Thessa hissed from below. “Caelan, get down from there! This is insane!”
