Page 13 of Mated By Sunrise
Her fingers drummed restlessly on the desk, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. She had spent so long convincing herself that she didn’t need him, that she was fine on her own. That her career, her independence, was all that mattered. But now, the thought of him moving on, of him finding happiness with someone else, twisted her stomach in knots.
The bank door chimed in the distance. Rochelle snapped out of her thoughts, blinking away the haze of emotions. She glanced at the clock—lunch hour. She was supposed to meet a few colleagues for a quick bite, but her appetite had vanished, replaced by the unsettling churn of doubt and longing.
The soft ticking of the clock on her office wall was the only sound in the room, marking the passing of another long day. Time had slipped away from her, and now the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a deepening twilight over the small town. The sky outside her window was bathed in hues of purple and orange, the colors fading into the dark indigo of the approaching night… and the final phase of the full moon.
She felt it immediately—the familiar tug deep inside her. The pull that made her thighs press together. The full moon always made it harder to ignore the bond between her and Caleb, the one she had spent years pushing away. And now, with the moon shining so brightly, the urge to go to him was overwhelming.
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t send him mixed signals. After everything that had happened, after their fight and the distance she had put between them, she couldn’t give in to the bond tonight. It wasn’t fair to Caleb, and it wasn’t fair to herself.
She exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease from her body, or at least trying to.
“You still working? It’s past closing time.” Herb stepped into her office without knocking. His tie was loosened, his shirt untucked.
“I’m just wrapping up,” she said, her voice sounding more composed than she felt.
Herb took a few more steps into her office, moving closer than was appropriate. She tensed, her fingers curling around the edge of her desk as she felt his presence invade her space.
"You know, Rochelle," Herb began, his tone a little too familiar, "I’ve been meaning to tell you—you work way too hard. A woman like you shouldn’t be spending all her time here in the bank. You deserve to be appreciated… properly."
Rochelle blinked, her mind struggling to process his words. Was he… making a pass at her? It rarely happened. No wolf in town ever had. They all knew she belonged to Caleb.
She'd had a few human males pay attention to her in school, but she had hardly paid attention back. Her nose was always in the books. She was in the library instead of the pep rallies. Interning instead of going to the clubs. So nothing ever came of it.
Herb didn't scent the claim on her. He hadn't been in town long enough to hear any warnings. Didn't matter. Herb was harmless. A bit incompetent, sure, but nothing more. Yet now, as he stood so close to her, his breath too warm and too close, the air between them felt suffocating.
"I thought I felt an attraction between us earlier at my desk."
"You mean when I corrected your mistakes?"
Herb leaned in closer, his hand brushing against the edge of her desk, fingers dangerously near hers. She wasn’t scared—she knew she could defend herself easily. She wasn’t weak. But the sheer audacity of Herb’s advance left her frozen, the situation so unexpected that her brain refused to respond.
“That's right. You took care of me. Now let me take care of you.”
Rochelle's skin crawled at his words, revulsion twisting in her gut. She wanted to move, to push him back, to tell him off,but her body wouldn’t respond. She wasn’t frightened—she was a wolf shifter, after all—but the shock had her rooted to the spot, disbelief clouding her instincts.
And then she heard it—a low, guttural growl.
Her heart skipped, and her wolf stirred inside her, ready to react. But it wasn’t her wolf that had let out the warning growl.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Caleb paced the length of his small cabin, each step heavy and restless. The moon had risen, the orb full and bright, casting long silver beams through the gaps in the curtains. Its pull was undeniable, a constant hum in his veins, urging him toward her. He tried to ignore it, to push it down, but his wolf was having none of it. The beast inside him stirred, restless and hungry for Rochelle, as it always was when the moon hung high in the sky like this.
But tonight, Caleb refused to go to her.
He had always been the one to give in, the one to follow the pull of the bond, to make sure she was safe, even when she didn’t want him there. He’d stand outside the bank or her home, just watching, making sure she was all right. It had become routine, a habit he couldn’t break. But this time, it had to be her. If Rochelle wanted him—if she really wanted him—then she needed to come to him.
And yet… something gnawed at him. A persistent, uncomfortable feeling that wouldn’t let him settle. He’d tried sitting, standing, even lying down, but every position felt wrong, every muscle in his body too tense. His wolf growled inside him, clawing at his gut, eager to be let out, to run, to find her.
Caleb stood by the window, watching the moon climb higher into the sky. From here, he could see the distant glow of the Moon Festival—the flickering fires, the soft hum of music, the laughter of the pack mingling with the night air. His brothers were there, and most of the pack, too. It was tradition, a celebration of their shared connection with the moon. But Caleb had no interest in joining. Not tonight.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His body thrummed with energy he couldn’t quite place. His feet itched to move. Before he could stop himself, he was out the door, the cool night air brushing against his skin.
He started walking, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted. He told himself he wasn’t going to the bank. He wasn’t going to check on Rochelle. He was just… walking. Just stretching his legs. But as he moved through the quiet streets, his steps seemed to have a mind of their own, leading him away from the festival, away from the pack, and toward the part of town where the bank stood.
With each step, he felt the pull getting stronger, the bond between him and Rochelle humming more insistently. His wolf perked up. Its ears pricked.
He could see the building in the distance now, its silhouette dark and imposing against the moonlit sky. The closer he got, the more the unease in his chest grew. At first, he ignored it, pushing it down as just another trick of the bond, another way his wolf was trying to manipulate him into seeing Rochelle. But as he approached the bank, that niggling feeling of discomfort sharpened into something more—a sense of wrongness.
