Magnus's POV I didn't exactly look any softer. Inside, I sneered. Specimens? Ha. Why not just turn himself into one? Wolves see through each other instantly. I knew exactly what Alfie's delicate intentions were, even if Aysel didn't. She had no clue he wasn't going to recklessly unravel the thread of attraction between us. I pushed the cake toward her, masking the shadows flickering in my eyes. "Eat less. Otherwise, you won't have room for dinner." "I can eat less at dinner," she said lightly, eyes calm yet alert. "And then wake me in the middle of the night, starving, to cook for you?" I said, a half-smile tugging at my lips, but the sharp edge of alpha control lingered. Her pause amused me-some things didn't need to be spelled out. My hand itched to reach for her face, to remind her of the territory she inhabited, and of the bond between a wolf and his mate. I pinched her cheek lightly, though it was playful, it carried the weight of warning. Finally, curiosity overpowered restraint. I fixed my dark eyes on her plump cheeks. "So... what did you two talk about before I came?" "Life, ideals... philosophy," she answered, grinning as though nothing mattered. I could feel danger curling in my chest at her flippancy. She caught my gaze and tilted her head, then said with an almost innocent shrug, "He said he saw me in A City seven years ago." I ground my teeth. Seven years. He had appeared early in her timeline. "And?" I pressed. "No... nothing else. I didn't ask." Her hands lifted helplessly. "It doesn't matter. I don't even remember him." A wolf's pulse in my veins steadied, and the storm of my expression softened. My mate really didn't place any threat from some distant, cunning male in her mind. All that effort-wasted. If it had been me who met her then, I thought with a flash of pride, she would have scrutinized every detail, dissected every encounter, analyzed every potential meeting of fate. Alfie's presence, though momentary, was inconsequential. My mood lifted. I reached out to touch her ear, that subtle point where wolves sense each other's calm and storm. "Seven years ago... what took you to A City?"I felt her swallow the cake, hesitant, measured. "I went for a knowledge competition." First place. But the memory was tainted. I sensed the detachment in her tone-the faint scar of past injustice. Back then, Celestine Ward had ruled Moonvale Pack like a shadow over her. She hadn't yet severed ties with the family. She had been bullied. I could feel it. I squeezed her hand, a silent comfort. She smiled faintly at me. "It's fine." I didn't press. The past could sting; no need to reopen old wounds. But I considered quietly, as wolves always do, the Moonvale Pack's position. The days of the Vale family being teased like prey by me had exhausted Alpha Remus and Fenrir. The once-stable Moonvale Pack now teetered on the edge, each step precarious, as if walking a wire stretched over a chasm. No rush. My eyes glinted, ice-cold. Moonvale had always clamored for atonement. Let the daughter they've wronged strike the final blow herself. "If only I had met you earlier..." I muttered suddenly, voice low, rumbling like a wolf in the dark. Sixteen-year-old Aysel... What would she have been like? Thinking of it, the fire I imagined dimmed. First Damon Blackwood, then Alfie... each had intersected with her youth at some point. And me? Late to the hunt. I lifted her from the chair, the pack instinct overriding all else, cradling her in my arms. Her scent filled my nostrils, sharp and sweet. I buried my face in the curve of her neck, voice low, thick with frustration. If I had been the one to find her, I thought, a wolf guarding its bone, I would have scared off every predator and brought that rose back to my den long before any other could touch her.