Something flickered across his expression—annoyance, maybe, or resignation. He looked at Gerri with the kind of look that suggested he knew exactly what game she was playing and wasn't particularly amused by it.
But then he stepped forward, extending one large hand toward Harper. "Dorian Holt. Alpha of the Holt Pack and Lila's older brother."
Harper reached out to shake his hand, telling herself this was just professional courtesy, just the normal introduction between a counselor and a client's guardian. Nothing more complicated than that.
But the moment their palms touched, the world tilted sideways.
Heat flooded through her body like someone had opened a furnace door, racing up her arm and spreading through herchest until she felt like she might spontaneously combust. His eyes darkened to the color of storm clouds, and something that looked disturbingly like hunger flickered in their depths. His breathing grew noticeably deeper, and his hand tightened around hers with a possessiveness that should have alarmed her but instead sent a thrill of awareness skittering down her spine.
What the hell is happening?
The logical part of her brain—the part that had spent years learning to read people and situations—screamed warnings about inappropriate attraction and professional boundaries. But the rest of her, the part that had been lonely and touch-starved for longer than she cared to admit, wanted to melt into that warmth and never let go.
She suddenly couldn't handle this. Couldn't handle feeling this exposed, this vulnerable, this completely out of control in front of a man she'd known for all of thirty seconds.
Harper pulled her hand away like she'd been burned, which wasn't far from the truth. "I'm sorry, I really need to use the restroom. Could you point me in the right direction?"
Dorian cleared his throat, and she caught a flash of something almost like disappointment in his eyes before his expression returned to its controlled mask. "Of course. The main level bathroom is just down the corridor and to the left."
Harper practically fled into the house, not even taking in the beautiful architecture or the careful craftsmanship that had clearly gone into every beam and stone. All she could focus on was getting away from those knowing blue eyes and the way her hand still tingled like it had been branded.
She found the bathroom and locked the door behind her with hands that shook slightly, then immediately went to the sink to splash cold water over her burning palm. But the tingling sensation persisted, like some kind of invisible mark that refused to wash away.
Oh my god, this is not what I expected at all.
Harper stared at her reflection in the mirror—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, lips slightly parted like she'd been running instead of just shaking hands with her client's brother. This was exactly the kind of complication she couldn't afford, exactly the kind of distraction that could destroy her professional credibility.
Get yourself together,she commanded her reflection.You're here to do a job. You're here to help Lila, nothing more.
But even as she tried to rationalize what had just happened—some kind of Alpha phenomenon, maybe, just the natural response to being in the presence of that much concentrated power and intensity—her treacherous body refused to forget the way his hand had felt against hers, warm and strong and impossibly right.
You've never met an Alpha before. That's all this is. Just your body responding to supernatural energy you don't understand.
She splashed more water on her face, trying to wash away the heat that seemed to have taken up permanent residence under her skin.
So why does it feel like there's so much more going on here?
FOUR
DORIAN
Dorian stood frozen in his own doorway, watching Harper disappear down the corridor toward his bathroom. Every instinct urged him to follow her, to make sure she was alright, to somehow explain what had just happened between them. But his feet remained rooted to the hardwood floor like ancient trees, unwilling to move.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
His entire world had shifted off its axis in the span of minutes. The moment he'd opened the door and caught Harper's scent—jasmine and summer rain, clean and intoxicating—his wolf had surged forward with a recognition so fierce it nearly knocked him off balance. Then he'd seen her face, those expressive green eyes studying him without fear, and something deep in his chest had cracked open like ice breaking in spring.
He'd known. Even before their hands touched, some primal part of him had recognized what she was to him.
Mate.
The word echoed through his mind with the finality of a death knell. He'd tried to avoid the handshake, tried to maintain distance, because confirming what his wolf already knew felt likestepping off a cliff into free fall. But Gerri's pointed reminder about manners had forced his hand—literally.
The moment their palms connected, the mate bond had slammed into place with brutal clarity. Heat had flooded his system, recognition blazing through every nerve ending until he'd nearly hauled Harper against his chest right there on the front porch. His wolf had roared with triumph and possession, finally finding the missing piece that would make them whole.
Mine. Claim her. Mark her. Keep her.
But he couldn't. Not now. Not when his pack's stability hung by threads and his sister's mental health consumed every waking moment. Not when everything he'd built threatened to crumble if he let himself get distracted by what his body wanted.
