The realization stole the breath from his lungs. He’d invited her—no, demanded her presence—in a moment of pure instinct that bypassed every logical thought in his head at the time. Now she was outside his door, and he couldn’t retreat without looking like a coward.
You’re Alpha,he reminded himself, straightening to his full imposing height.You’ve faced down predators, survived blizzards that would kill lesser men, and maintained order in one of the harshest environments on earth. You can handle one dinner with a human female.
But his polar bear’s rumbling response made it clear this wasn’t just any human female. She wastheirs.
A soft knock echoed against the solid wood, and Korrak’s gaze swept over the dining table one final time. The meal he’d prepared looked elegant in its simplicity—roasted venison with winter vegetables, fresh bread that filled the cabin with warmth, and wine that had cost him a small fortune to have shipped to this frozen wasteland.
The candles. His jaw clenched as he spotted the three pillar candles he’d placed along the table’s center, their flames casting dancing shadows across the polished wood. What had seemedlike atmospheric lighting now looked suspiciously romantic, as if he were trying to seduce her rather than simply feed her.
Another knock, more tentative this time, and he could hear the wind howling with increased fury outside. She’d freeze if he left her standing there much longer, and his protective instincts wouldn’t allow that regardless of his personal turmoil.
Korrak moved to the door with the fluid grace that marked him as predator rather than prey, his hand closing around the heavy brass handle. He paused for a heartbeat, steeling himself against the impact he knew was coming, then pulled the door open.
The sight of her stole every coherent thought from his mind. Snow clung to her dark hair where it escaped from beneath her knitted cap, and her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold. But it was her eyes that undid him—those deep green depths that seemed to see straight through his carefully maintained facades to the man beneath. She looked smaller somehow, bundled in winter gear that dwarfed her feminine curves, yet there was something in her posture that spoke of hidden strength.
Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.The words whispered through his consciousness with devastating clarity.
“Welcome,” he managed. He stepped back, gesturing her inside before the storm could steal what warmth the cabin held. “Come in before you turn into an ice sculpture.”
She crossed the threshold with careful steps, her movements betraying the caution of someone accustomed to scanning for danger. The scent of her hit him instantly—jasmine and something uniquely feminine that made his polar bear surge against his control with renewed determination.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, her voice slightly breathless from the cold. “I wasn’t sure I’d make it. That storm is getting serious.”
Korrak closed the door behind her, sealing them into the intimate warmth of his sanctuary. “The weather here is brutal. You learn to respect it or it kills you.”
He moved behind her to help with her parka, his hands brushing against the heavy fabric as she shrugged out of the coat. The simple contact sent electricity racing up his arms, and he had to clench his jaw against the urge to let his fingers linger on her shoulders.
Her hair tumbled free as she removed her cap, the dark strands mussed and inviting. One particularly rebellious curl had caught against her cheek, and Korrak’s fingers twitched with the need to smooth it away. Only years of rigid self-discipline kept his hands to himself as she unwound her scarf and pulled off her gloves with efficient movements.
She was nervous—he could sense it in the careful way she held herself, and the slight tremor in her hands. Her vulnerability called to every protective instinct he had, but he kept his careful distance as he hung her coat on the hook beside the door.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said as he turned and headed toward the dining area. “I may have gone slightly overboard with dinner.”
The understatement of the century. He’d cooked enough food to feed his entire clan, his nervous energy channeled into preparing a meal worthy of the woman who’d turned his ordered world upside down.
Winslet’s gaze swept over the table, taking in the carefully arranged plates, the abundance of food, and those damning candles that seemed to mock his attempts at casual hospitality. Her eyes widened slightly, and he caught the faint flush that crept up her neck.
“This is... wow.” She looked genuinely surprised, as if she’d expected something far more primitive. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“It wasn’t trouble.” The lie came easily, even as his polar bear preened at her obvious appreciation. “Just basic hospitality.”
He pulled out her chair, another gesture that felt far too intimate for what was supposed to be a simple informational dinner. She settled into the seat with fluid grace, and he found himself studying the elegant line of her neck and the way her hair caught the candlelight.
Focus.He moved to his own chair, putting the safety of the table between them.This is about establishing boundaries and understanding why she’s really here.
The wine bottle sat within easy reach, and he filled both their glasses with movements that betrayed none of his inner turmoil. The rich red liquid seemed to glow in the flickering light, adding another layer of intimacy to a scene that was already testing his resolve.
“Gerri’s at it again, I see,” he said, allowing a wry smile to curve his lips.
The comment was a fishing expedition, designed to gauge Winslet’s knowledge of the supernatural world and Gerri’s true purpose.
Confusion flickered across Winslet’s features, followed by something that looked suspiciously like worry. “I’m sorry but I don’t know what you mean by that.”
Her response confirmed his suspicions—she was either an excellent actress or genuinely unaware of Gerri’s reputation in the shifter community. “Gerri has been very helpful in arranging this position for me,” she continued, her voice carefully neutral. “I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
Opportunity.The word carried weight, suggesting this placement was more necessity than choice. Korrak filed thatinformation away, his analytical mind cataloging every nuance of her response.
“I’m sure you are.” He took a sip of wine, using the moment to study her over the rim of his glass. “Though I have to admit, Ellie never mentioned needing an assistant.”
