Hart woke up to the sound of wolves howling, which was wrong on approximately seventeen different levels because Veilridge City didn't have wolves, and also he was pretty sure he'd just been murdered in his museum's conservation lab.
He sat up fast, immediately regretted it when his head protested with a spike of pain, and took stock of his surroundings.
He was on a massive bedroom, probably bigger than his entire apartment. The furniture looked hand-carved and somehow ancient expensive.
The ceiling was floor-to-ceiling, and it was showing mountains and forest instead of the city skyline. And the howling was getting louder.
"Okay," Hart said to the empty room, and his voice came out hoarse, "so either I'm dead and hell has really committed to the wilderness lodge aesthetic, or I've been kidnapped by werewolves, which honestly isn't much better, because W.E.R.E.W.O.L.V.E.S… does those even exist."
The bedroom door opened, and a man built like a tank walked in carrying a tray.
He had silver streaking through his dark hair, a scar running down his left cheek, and the kind of face that suggested he'd seen some truly terrible things and caused most of them personally.
"You're awake," the man said, setting the tray on the bedside table. It was water, bread, and what looked like soup.
"Drink the water first, you've been out for six hours and you're dehydrated."
Hart stared at him, then at the water, then back at him. "Are you going to murder me if I don't?"
"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead." The man crossed his arms, which made his biceps look like they could bench press a small car.
"I'm Jethro Gibbs, Beta of Haanshil Bloodlines, and you're in the main manor on pack territory, approximately forty miles north of Veilridge City."
"Right, okay, werewolf kidnapping it is, and they do exist." Hart took a deep breath, and grabbed the water and drank it anyway because his throat felt like sandpaper, and if they wanted him dead they probably wouldn't waste good hydration on him first.
"So what's the plan here, do I get sacrificed at the next full moon, or is this more of a ransom situation?"
Jethro's expression didn't change, but something that might have been amusement passed in his eyes.
"The Alpha will be here very soon to speak with you, and I'd suggest you don't test his patience because he's not in a good mood, not after slaughtering three BlackY Wolves in a human museum and violate about six different treaty clauses."
"The Alpha." Hart set the water down carefully, and the memories started flooding back in extremely unwelcome clarity.
The creatures crashing through the skylight, the totem burning his wrist, and that massive guy with golden eyes who'd said a Mate word that made absolutely no sense. "Cole Haanshil."
"I guess that would be him."
"And he thinks I'm his mate, which is insane because I'm human and also I'm pretty sure mates are supposed to be, you know, consensual?"
Jethro's mouth twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile but was definitely dark humor.
"The mate bond doesn't ask permission, it just is, and you triggered the totem which means you're either his fated mate or you're about to cause a political nightmare that makes the last werewolf civil war look like a friendly disagreement."
Hart looked down at his wrist where the wolf mark still glowed faintly under his skin.
The pain had faded but the symbol remained, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. "What if I just want to go home and pretend none of this happened?"
"You'd be dead before you reached city limits." Jethro moved toward the door, clearly done with the conversation.
"Every pack within five hundred miles knows the Original Bloodline totem is already activated, and they know a human bonded with it.
You're either the key to an ancient prophecy or you're a threat to werewolf secrecy. Either way, you don't get to go back to your normal life."
The door opened before Jethro could reach it, and Cole Haanshil walked in, somehow looking even bigger in the daylight than night.
He'd changed into clean clothes, dark jeans and a grey henley that did absolutely nothing to hide the muscle underneath, and his golden eyes locked onto Hart with an intensity that made Hart's pulse spike.
"Leave us," Cole said to Jethro, his voice carrying that same vibration Hart remembered from the museum, and Jethro left without argument.
The door closed, and Hart found himself alone with a werewolf Alpha who apparently thought they were destined soulmates, which would be flattering under literally any other circumstances.
"You're afraid," Cole observed, staying near the door like he knew getting too close would make Hart bolt.
"Because your heart rate just doubled and you smell like panic."
"You can smell emotions, great, that's not creepy at all." Hart said in one breath and stood up from the bed, ignoring how his legs shook, because he'd be damned if he had this conversation while sitting down.
"Look, I appreciate the rescue back at the museum, truly, but I need to go home. My sister Mira is probably losing her mind, and my best friend Lewis has definitely called the cops by now, and I have an exhibition opening in five days that I'm supposed to be managing."
"Your sister has been contacted and told you're in protective custody due to the museum attack," Cole said calmly, like he'd already handled everything, which honestly just pissed Hart off more.
"Your friend Lewis has also been informed, and your supervisor Dr. Brennan has been paid a considerable amount of money to delay the exhibition and keep quiet about what happened."
Hart's hands clenched into a fists, then he throws it into the air, brought it down and takes a very long deep breath.
"You don't get to just rearrange my life because some magic rock decided we're connected."
"The totem doesn't decide anything, it reveals what already exists." Cole finally moved closer, and Hart hated that his body responded to it, that something deep in his chest pulled toward this stranger like they knew each other since very ever.
"You're my fated mate, Hart Santino, and that means every pack law and ancient bond says you belong with me."
"I don't belong to anyone."
"I know." Cole stopped a few feet away, and his expression softened into human.
"Which is why I'm not claiming you by force, even though every instinct I have is screaming at me to mark you and make it permanent before someone tries to take you."
Hart's heat beat increased. "Someone like who?"
Cole's eyes went cold and hard. "My brother Liam filed a mate claim on you three days ago using dark magic, which means according to pack law, you're already spoken for, and if I claim you now, I start a war."