Desire and restraint

Back in the villa, the silence lingered like a quiet hum in the walls, disturbed only by the occasional rustle of the wind brushing against the grand windows. Halle sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, her wedding gown long gone and replaced by comfortable loungewear_ simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Her laptop rested on her lap, screen glowing dimly in the low- lit room, while her phone lay beside her.

She tapped her fingers on the keyboard absentmindedly before unlocking her phone. A couple of notifications blinked to life_;an automated message from the university reminding students about Monday deadlines, a few missed texts from her two close friends, Leon and phoebe.

They had no idea what had happened. No clue she had married a stranger today.

She replied to their texts, and then set her phone aside. Her stomach growled then_ loud enough to snap her from her daze. She hesitated a second, then got up, brushing a hand through her loose hair, and padded barefoot downstairs.

The kitchen was tucked past the living area, a clean modern space without unnecessary clutter. It was elegant but not flashy. She headed towards the fridge that was tall and sleek, and opened it to reveal wla well stocked interior. Clearly, whoever handled the house made sure the essentials were never missing.

She pulled out a few ingredients and opted for the simplest thing she could think of_ a grilled cheese sandwich with slices of ripe tomatoes. It was the kind of comfort food she hadn't had since high school, something she used to make late at night when cramming for exams. It felt oddly nostalgic.

She ate standing up, her back leaning against the counter, the silence around her both comforting and alien. No noise, no footsteps, no murmurs of family. Just her and this lavish kitchen.

Once satisfied, she put her dish in the sink—she'd wash it later—and made her way back upstairs. There was no urge to explore the massive villa, even though she could sense it was the kind of place that probably had art-filled hallways and high-ceiling libraries. Right now, all she needed was her laptop and her projects.

The study area in the bedroom was neatly arranged—dark wooden desk, an ergonomic chair, a small table lamp, and drawers that hadn't been touched. She settled there, opened her files, and resumed where she'd left off.

Final year. Just a few months from graduating. Her major: accounting.

Her focus fell on the laptop in front of her where she opened a folder with a long project awaiting her. It was work she enjoyed—numbers, structure, clarity. Unlike her personal life, which was now buried under chaos.

She didn't notice time slipping away. The room shifted from glowing daylight to dusk, shadows climbing the walls. She didn't get up to turn the lights on. The only illumination came from her laptop and the small desk lamp she'd lit earlier. Her fingers moved, her brows occasionally furrowed, and her mouth set in quiet determination.

Eventually, the day caught up with her. Her eyes blinked slower, her head drooped forward once, twice—and then she stilled, asleep on her arm, her cheek resting against the desk.

It was nearly an hour later when Raphael returned.

He climbed the stairs, shoulders slightly tense from the long hours at the office, and made his way to the bedroom. The door creaked open.

At first, he didn't see her. Then his gaze shifted to the desk—and there she was.

Halle had fallen asleep, her face turned slightly toward him, her breathing soft and even. Stray strands of her dark brown hair framed her cheek, and her lips were slightly parted. The glow from the laptop screen cast a warm light on her features, and for the first time since they met, Raphael took time to observe her.

She wasn't the loud type. Not overly done, not dramatic. Just quietly beautiful. Her features were soft, but there was steel beneath the surface. He'd noticed it the moment she had learntthat they would be sharing a room. She had a backbone—he didn't know whether that was going to be a problem or a compliment.

He stepped closer. Then reached out with one hand, about to gently wake her. But his fingers hovered in the air, inches from her shoulder.

Silently, he slid an arm under her knees and the other beneath her back, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. She stirred slightly in his arms, but didn't wake. He placed her on the bed gently, pulling the comforter over her form. She shifted once, curling slightly into the warmth.

For a moment, he stood there watching her. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes.

Then, without a word, he turned to the closet, undressed with quiet efficiency, and pulled on a pair of black sleep pants and a plain t-shirt. He slid into the bed beside her, not too close, but not on the other end either. Just enough space.

He lay there, eyes on the ceiling. But slowly, he turned his head to look at her.

She looked ethereal in her sleep. The gentle rise and fall of her chest, the soft frown between her brows, the way a stray strand of her hair clung on her cheek_ everything about her stirred something primitive inside him. Something he had long buried beneath steel like control and calculated detachment.

He wasn't just a man. He never had been.

He was an alpha. A pureblood werewolf born into a legacy of power and dominance. In a world where strength ruled, and submission was expected, Raphael had clawed his way up to the top_ not just of the business world, but of the supernatural hierarchy that governed creatures like him.

And this girl—Halle—this human girl with fire in her voice and defiance in her eyes, was his mate. The moon goddess had chosen her for him.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Raphael had spent his whole life believing he'd never find his true mate. He had accepted arranged proposals from within packs, deflected connections, and ignored the lingering pressure from elders. But when his wolf had sensed her, when it recognized her scent for the first time in the most unexpected places_ it had changed everything.

His fingers itched to touch her.

He wanted to thread them through her soft hair, to trace the smooth curve of her jaw, to lean in and brush his lips against hers until she woke and looked at him with those startled eyes that never failed to stir a fire in him.

But he didn't move. She wasn't ready_ not yet. Her world had shifted too fast, and she was still finding her footing. He had stolen her from a life she had known and dropped her into his world, a world she had no idea existed. And as much as his wolf growled and growled beneath the surface, impatient and restless, Raphael had promised himself that he would give her time.

He wanted to ease her into everything. He wanted her to feel safe. And eventually, when time came_ when her body softened under his touch, when her lips parted not out of surprise but want, when her soul answered her in the way only soulmates could_ then he would claim her fully.

But for now, he would wait. He reached out slowly, brushing the hair from her forehead with gentleness that contradicted every ruthless rumor that surrounded his name. His hand lingered a second longer than it should have, then withdrew.

His gaze fell once more to her peaceful face. She had no idea of what he was, or what he was capable of but soon, she would learn. And when she did, he would be there_ whether she embraced him or fought him.

Turning his gaze on the ceiling, he finally closed his eyes.