Magnus's POV I stared at her, amber eyes catching the morning sun through the half-closed blinds, letting the wolf beneath my skin shift, claws flexing against the restraint of civility. "I do not agree," I said flatly, no room for debate. Aysel-Aysel Vale, of the Moonvale Pack, sharp as a frostbite night-was speechless at my unilateral declaration. Her lips parted, blinked once, then settled into that stubborn line she always wore when she was trying to measure me. Yet I surprised even myself by considering her perspective. Her argument-emotion can be nurtured. Foolish, yes, but... intriguing. I knew alliances were stronger when bound by profit, power, and loyalty, not fleeting human-like feelings. But still, I let her think the notion had merit. "I haven't agreed to anything yet," she said, letting the edge of her fangs show just enough to remind me who she was. The glow of her phone suddenly caught my attention. I pushed back from the table, stretching my long limbs, wolf instincts humming with anticipation. "I leave in one hour," I informed her, voice smooth as silk but cold as steel. "You have time to think. Reach out when you're ready. I can't promise love, Aysel, but I will restrain myself enough to be the mate you need." Her brows furrowed, the tension in her posture, the way her tail flicked subtly beneath her sleeping form-even in civility, wolves reveal themselves. "And if I don't agree?" she asked, sharp, wary, but curious. "Then you continue to think," I replied, letting a dangerous grin curve my lips. "I only accept one answer." Others might call such words arrogance, but I-heir of Shadowbane, wolf Rafe incarnate-had the authority and the instincts to back them. She blinked at me like a doe trapped in moonlight, instinctively aware she was stepping into a trap. And in some hidden part of herself, she knew it. "Wait," she said suddenly, voice edged with confusion. "You were leaving anyway. Why such a reaction when I asked?" I shrugged, palms raised innocently, wolfish ears twitching. "Going for work and being sent away by some wild male-are they the same?" "I didn't send you away. What wild male?" "A man coveting another's mate," I said with a casual bite of amusement, voice low and playful. She pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperation clear. "You're taking this roleplay too seriously."I leaned down, the scent of my wolf rolling over her like a predator's veil, and pressed a fleeting kiss to her forehead. Only a brush, yet enough to make her flinch, instinctively ducking into the contact. "Magnus Sanchez!" she spat, fangs grazing her lips in indignation. "Good," I murmured, voice like a growl disguised as whisper. "I'll go pack my things now." She stormed toward the door, tail flicking, ears flattened. Alpha theatrics, all hers and mine, intertwined. I watched her go, smiling beneath the calm, knowing that the Vale pack and her tangled past would shove her back into my orbit soon enough. I let my wolf stretch in the quiet apartment, claws scraping lightly across the floor. The plan had never been to simply use her-initially, I sought a capable, bold wolf to share duties, a mate who could withstand the chaos of pack politics. But after weeks observing her-how she dared, how she struck, how she flared with raw, unpredictable strength-I realized she might give me more than mere practicality. Aysel had fire; she had instinct. And the thought made my pulse quicken, my wolf stirring, sensing the thrill of a hunt that might last a lifetime. The agreement wife-this "protocol mate"-I found satisfaction in the notion. She challenged me, teased my patience, tested the boundaries of dominance. And beneath the carefully controlled veneer, I could sense the potential for something more... volatile, thrilling, and utterly mine. The door slammed behind her, and I leaned back against the sofa, amber eyes glowing with calculated anticipation. My claws flexed against the leather, a silent echo of the predator waiting for the perfect moment. Soon, she would understand that being near me was more than circumstance. She would learn that in the Shadowbane Pack, proximity is survival, and survival comes at the price of surrendering-at least in part-to the alpha who chooses you. I exhaled slowly, wolf's instinct settling into patience, letting the tension simmer in the room long after her departure. The Vale may have tried to cage her, but here, with me, Aysel Vale would either rise-or burn. Either way, I was ready.