ONCE REJECTED THRILLED DESIRED

Seliene

The bottle shatters against the wall, spraying glass inches from my head.

I don't flinch. I never do.

"If you throw another bottle, I'm banning your pack for a month."

The werewolf across the bar bares his teeth at me, amber eyes flashing in the dim light. Ugh. Drunk alphas.

"You can't do that," he slurs.

I slam both palms on the counter, leaning forward until my dark curls shadow my glare.

"Watch me, Derek. This isn't your territory, it's mine. And in my bar, you follow my rules."

The crowd hushes. Even the rowdy fae in the corner pause their poker game to watch.

Derek's beta, Jax, tugs him back with an apologetic grimace. "She's right, man. Let's just go."

I toss a rag over my shoulder and watch them slink out, the door swinging shut behind them. The tension evaporates, and the usual hum of laughter and clinking glasses returns.

"Remind me never to piss you off," murmurs Ellie, my human bartender, sliding a whiskey to a waiting vampire.

I smirk. "Smart girl."

The Moonlight Veil s mine. A neutral ground for Others and the few humans brave or dumb enough to linger. No pack commands. No blood feuds. No mate bonds. Just good liquor and the kind of peace you can only earn the hard way.

And I've bled to keep it that way.

I duck into the backroom to grab more water. When I return, Ellie is chatting with a selkie in his human form while pouring tequila like a pro. I let her handle the front for a minute and retreat to the far end of the bar to count receipts and give myself a moment to breathe.

Running this place wasn't the life I imagined back then. Back before I clawed my way out of the underground, but it's mine now. I built it brick by bloody brick. And nothing, nothing, is going to drag me back into chains.

Especially not a mate.

My wolf stirs at the thought, restless. I shove her down like I always do. I've managed to avoid a bond this long, and I'll keep doing it. No one gets to own me again. Ever.

"Hey, Seline!" Ellie calls. "You've got a guy eyeing you like he wants to order or propose."

I glance up, expecting the usual overly confident shifter.

But the man now sitting at the far end of the bar isn't usual.

He's tall and lean, dressed in fitted grey slacks and a crisp black shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up. His hair is tousled in that way that seems too perfect to be accidental, and even from here, I can see the sharp cut of his jaw.

There's something still about him, like a hunter who knows he doesn't have to chase, prey comes to him.

He's not looking at Ellie.

He's looking straight at me.

Our eyes meet for a heartbeat too long. I should look away. I usually do. Men don't faze me. Flirting barely registers after years of hard stares and rough hands. But this one?

I feel... pulled.

There's no smile. No nod. Just quiet intensity as he watches me with eyes that seem to miss nothing.

I clear my throat and head his way, keeping my pace steady.

"Evening," I say. "What can I get you?"

His lips twitch, almost a smile. "What do you recommend?"

His voice.

Gods.

It hits me like honeyed smoke, warm and rich with the kind of resonance that makes your spine hum. My wolf stirs again, not wildly like before, but with something quieter. Intrigued. Curious.

I blink, momentarily forgetting my mental menu. "Whiskey. Neat. You look like someone who doesn't play with mixers."

He nods, still watching me. "Good guess."

As I pour his drink, I feel the weight of his gaze lingering on my hands, my face, my every movement. It's not the sleazy kind of attention I'm used to. It's different. He looks at me like he's trying to figure something out. Like I'm a puzzle he didn't expect.

When I place the glass in front of him, our fingers brush. Barely.