Serious

IVAN

The food is incredible, every bite a perfect balance of flavors, but my focus wavers. Zander's gaze never fully leaves me, and though I try to brush off the tension, the weight of his presence is undeniable. The meal ends, and I sip the last of my drink, feeling almost too aware of the way his fingers trace the rim of his glass. Then, out of nowhere, Zander leans forward, his demeanor shifting. The playful smirk that usually dances on his lips is gone, replaced by something far more serious, and my breath catches.

"Ivan," he begins, his voice steady but low, as if he's carefully weighing each word. "Spending time with you these past 24 hours… I can't imagine anything else."

I stiffen slightly, unsure of where this is going, but I don't dare interrupt him. His dark eyes meet mine, filled with a sincerity that makes my heart skip a beat.

"You've swept into my life like an unplanned storm," he continues, his tone softening, "but I've loved every second of it. I'm interested in you—deeply, completely. I want you to be mine, and… hell, I want to be yours. I'm not talking about just a passing connection, Ivan. I'm interested in you with the hope of mating one day."

My heart lurches painfully in my chest. His words are spoken with such clarity, such unwavering certainty, that they leave me breathless. I can't tear my eyes away from him, from the quiet intensity etched into his face. This isn't a game to him; it's real, and the weight of his confession crashes over me like a wave.

I clench my hands in my lap, my mind racing. Mating. The word alone sends a ripple of fear through me. Mating isn't just a promise—it's a bond, a lifelong commitment that goes far beyond anything else. It means tethering your soul to someone, giving them a part of you that no one else could ever claim. It's irreversible, and though there are ways to break the bond like surgery, you're never the same afterward.

"Mating is… a pretty big deal," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. The words feel small, inadequate, but I can't bring myself to say more.

Zander notices, of course. He always does. His hand reaches across the table, warm and steady as it takes mine. His touch is grounding, yet gentle, and I can feel the calluses on his palm, the strength in his grip.

"I know," he says softly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "And I'm not saying we mate tomorrow, or even next week. I'm not rushing you into anything. I just wanted to be honest about my intentions. If you're not ready, that's okay. I'm not some Alpha from centuries past, demanding obedience or possession."

His larger hand tightens slightly around mine, but it's not suffocating—it's a silent reassurance, a promise of patience and understanding.

I glance down at our hands, his strong and protective, mine smaller and trembling slightly. The way they fit together feels both foreign and comforting, and it stirs something deep inside me.

"I…" I begin, but my throat tightens, the words refusing to come out. My fears and insecurities swirl in my mind, clashing with the flicker of warmth that his touch ignites.

I stare at our intertwined hands, my thoughts tangled and heavy. Zander's thumb gently brushes over my knuckles, grounding me even as my mind spins.

"Don't respond now," he says softly, his voice steady yet laced with a quiet urgency. "I want you to think about it. Okay?" He squeezes my hand a little tighter, as if to emphasize his words.

I nod slightly, my voice caught in my throat. I'm too dazed to say anything else, too overwhelmed by the weight of his confession. When the car drops me off at my apartment, I mumble a quiet goodbye and head inside, the events of the evening replaying over and over in my mind.

The moment I step through the door, I plop face-first onto my bed, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. Mating. The word alone feels like a boulder pressing on my chest. I think about Zander's serious expression, the sincerity in his voice, and the warmth of his touch.

It's too much. I roll over and stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. After a few minutes of fruitless thinking, I give up. Deciding that maybe I just need a break from my thoughts, I undress, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor, and crawl under the covers for a nap.

When I wake up, it's already 5 PM. The soft orange glow of the setting sun filters through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. I shuffle to the living room, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glance out the window. In the distance, I spot a sleek black car parked along the curb.

I frown slightly but then remember Zander's earlier comment about his "big deal" status. It's probably just his security detail. The thought makes me shake my head with a small, tired laugh. Even when he's not here, he's watching. Typical.

My stomach growls, cutting through the silence, and I head to the kitchen to search for food. After rummaging through the freezer, I pull out a box of frozen pizza, toss it into the microwave, and lean against the counter as it heats. The faint hum of the microwave fills the

air, but my mind drifts back to Zander.