Chapter 4

Jensen's Point of View

I stand frozen, my heart pounding in my chest as I watch her retreat into herself, her expression a mixture of shock and horror. The word "mate" still lingers in the air between us, a truth I’ve waited my entire life to discover, yet her reaction is nothing like I imagined.

Taking a cautious step forward, I reach out, my fingers brushing her shoulder. I hope the contact will ground her, draw her out of whatever storm is raging in her mind. The moment my hand touches her, warmth floods through me, the bond sparking to life as if it has been waiting for this exact moment.

Her body stiffens under my touch, and I watch as her bright blue eyes snap back to mine, the haunted look in them replaced by something else, shock, confusion, and maybe even a hint of fear.

"Are you okay?" I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

She shakes her head, stepping back quickly, breaking the contact. The moment her shoulder leaves my hand, it’s as though all the warmth is sucked out of the room. The sparks that had ignited in my palm vanish, leaving behind an aching emptiness I’ve never felt before.

"You must be mistaken," she says, her voice trembling but firm.

Mistaken? The word hits me like a blow to the chest. I can feel the bond as clearly as I feel the ground beneath my feet. There’s no mistake. She is mine.

I take a step toward her, desperate to close the distance, but the look in her eyes stops me. It’s a mix of defiance and fear, a silent plea for space. I force myself to stay rooted, my instincts screaming at me to protect, to comfort, to do something.

I watch her turn and walk away, her steps quick and purposeful, as though she’s running from me. My chest tightens painfully, and for the first time in my life, I feel truly powerless.

My thoughts swirl in chaos. Why is she afraid? Doesn’t she feel the bond? Or is it something else entirely? Did I do something wrong? My mind races through every possibility, but nothing makes sense.

I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, imagined countless scenarios of finding my mate, of the joy, the relief, the instant connection. But this? This wasn’t in any of those dreams.

I stand there, rooted in place, staring at the empty space where she had been just moments ago. The room feels colder now, quieter, as though her absence has stolen all the warmth and life from it.

The bond pulls at me, a silent, invisible thread tying me to her, urging me to follow. But I don’t. Not yet. She needs space, and as much as it hurts, I’ll give it to her.

For now.

But I can’t let this be the end. She’s my mate, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to her that she doesn’t have to fear me, or the bond we share.

I turn back toward my companions, Ronan and Nyx, who are watching me with curious and concerned expressions. I know they’ll have questions, but I don’t have the answers. Not yet.

All I know is that I’ve found her. And I can’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. The storm of emotions raging inside me needs to be pushed aside for now. I stride purposefully to the front desk, where a cheerful woman greets me with a bright smile.

"How may I help you?" she asks, her voice warm and welcoming.

"I need three rooms for myself and my companions," I reply, my tone steady despite the turmoil within me.

She nods her head, her fingers flying across the keyboard. After a moment, she looks up at me. "I have three rooms available, all with double beds. Does that work for you?"

I nod my head. "That’s fine, thank you."

I reach into my pocket, pulling out my card to pay. As she processes the transaction, she leans forward slightly, her smile turning flirtatious.

"Here for business or pleasure?" she asks, her tone light but suggestive.

"Business," I reply curtly, barely glancing at her. My mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of Rosalee. The way she looked at me, the way she fled, it’s all I can think about.

I decide to take a chance. "The woman who just left," I say, keeping my voice casual. "Who is she? What’s her name?"

The receptionist’s expression falters for a moment, her disappointment evident, but she quickly recovers, her smile returning.

"That would be Rosalee," she says, her tone still polite but tinged with curiosity. "She works here. Cleaning rooms, running errands, helping in the kitchen, she does a bit of everything."

"Rosalee," I repeat softly, the name rolling off my tongue. It feels right, like it was meant to be spoken by me. Her name is as beautiful as she is.

The receptionist watches me closely, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to decipher my interest. "She’s a hard worker," she adds after a moment. "Quiet, keeps to herself. Everyone here likes her."

I nod my head, filing away every detail. "Thank you," I say, pocketing the room keys she hands me.

As I turn to leave, I catch the receptionist’s lingering gaze, but I don’t look back. My thoughts are entirely on Rosalee, her name, her face, the bond that ties us together.

I don’t know why she ran or what she’s afraid of, but I do know one thing. I’m not leaving this town without understanding why.

The receptionist breaks the silince as she says. “Your rooms are on the third floor,” she explains. “Two are next to each other, and the third is directly across the hall.”

I nod my head in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” I say, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions I’m trying to suppress.

Turning toward the stairs, I stride purposefully, the sound of Ronan and Nyx’s footsteps following close behind me. The weight of their unspoken questions presses heavily on me, their gazes boring into the back of my head. I know they’re dying to ask what’s going on, but I don’t have the answers yet, not the ones they need, not the ones I need.

We ascend the stairs in silence, the air thick with tension. My mind is racing, replaying the encounter with Rosalee over and over again. Her name feels like a mantra in my head, but the look of horror on her face when I said “mate” cuts deeper than I care to admit.

When we reach the third floor, I stop in the hallway and pull the keycards from my pocket. Handing one to Ronan, I nod toward the room on the left. “This one’s yours.” Then I hand the second to Nyx, gesturing to the room beside his. “And this is yours.”

They both take the keys without a word, their curiosity still palpable.

“I’ll take the room across the hall,” I say, holding up the last keycard before slipping it into my pocket. “Get settled, put on some dry clothes, and meet in my room in an hour. We’ll regroup and plan our next moves.”

Ronan nods his head curtly, his expression unreadable, while Nyx raises an eyebrow, clearly itching to ask something but deciding against it.

As they head into their respective rooms, I turn and enter mine. The door clicks shut behind me, and for the first time since arriving, I allow myself a moment to breathe.

The room is simple but clean, with a double-sized bed, a small desk, and a window overlooking the storm drenched street below. I toss my bag onto the bed, running a hand through my hair as I stare out the window.

The storm outside mirrors the chaos inside me. Rosalee’s face is etched into my mind, her scent lingering in my senses, an irresistible pull I can’t ignore.

An hour. That’s all I have to gather myself before facing Ronan and Nyx’s questions. But right now, all I can think about is her.

I place my bag on the trunk at the end of the bed, my mind still a whirlwind of thoughts. The encounter with Rosalee plays over and over in my head, each replay adding more confusion, more frustration. She’s my mate, my mate, but the way she reacted, the horror in her eyes... I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did wrong.

I strip off my damp clothes, the chill of the room contrasting with the heat of my emotions. I need to clear my mind. I need to focus.

I step into the bathroom, the sound of the water hitting the tile almost soothing as I turn on the shower. The steam rises quickly, fogging up the mirror, and I close my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the water cascade over me.

As the water pours down, I let it wash away the tension in my muscles. The cold, stormy air outside the window fades as I focus on the feel of the water running over my skin. I lean my hands against the wall, taking deep breaths, trying to force my mind to calm.

But it’s no use. My thoughts keep returning to Rosalee. Her face, her scent, the way her eyes widened when I called her mate. The shock, the fear, it’s like a punch to the gut every time I think about it. Why did she run? Why does she want nothing to do with me?

I clench my fists, the water running over my knuckles as I try to push the thoughts away. I can’t let this distract me. The Crimsonclaw pack’s attacks are still a priority. The war between werewolves and Lycans is far from over, and I’m the one who has to put an end to it.

But as I stand there under the hot water, I know I can’t leave without understanding what’s going on with Rosalee. She’s my mate, and I won’t abandon her without answers.

I finish my shower, the water running cold as I turn off the taps. I stand there for a moment, letting the last of the steam dissipate before I step out, toweling off quickly.

I don’t have much time.

I pull on fresh clothes, the weight of my decision already settling in. I can’t leave town before I figure out why my mate wants nothing to do with me. But I can’t ignore the Crimsonclaw attacks either.

I take a deep breath, mind made up.

I’ll send Ronan and Nyx to the Lycan pack that was attacked. They can gather information, figure out what’s going on with the Crimsonclaws. I’ll stay behind, here, with my mate.

I don’t know how I’m going to make her see reason, but I’ll find a way. I won’t leave without her.