Page 8 of Ocean's Whisper

"Impossible," he muttered, studying her with narrowed eyes.

She stared back at him, confusion evident in her expression, seemingly becoming aware of his nudity at the same moment he remembered it. Her eyes widened further, a flush warming her pale cheeks despite her obvious exhaustion.

The blush spread down her neck, and he couldn't help but track its progress with inappropriate interest. His wolf rumbled in satisfaction—human or not, their mate was responding to them.

"This complicates things," he said, mostly to himself. The Seafang territory operated entirely separate from human society. His people lived by ancient laws, their existence carefully hidden from the modern world. A human Luna was unprecedented to their kind.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but another coughing fit overtook her, her body shaking with the effort. He instinctively pulled her closer, his bare chest warming her through the soaked clothing.

He had believed his Luna would be a she-wolf, raised in their traditions and ready to take her place beside him. Someone who understood pack hierarchy and the responsibilities of leadership.

Instead, the ocean had delivered him this fragile human woman who probably knew nothing of wolves or magic. The unfairness of it gnawed at him even as the mate bond solidified between them, impossible to deny with her in his arms.

FOUR

ISOLDE

Isolde's eyes finally fluttered open. Consciousness returned in disorienting fragments: wetness clinging to her skin, gritty sand beneath her, and the unmistakable taste of saltwater coating her tongue. As her vision cleared, she found herself staring into the most intense blue-gray eyes she had ever seen, belonging to a man kneeling beside her in the sand.

His face hovered inches from hers, his chiseled features frozen in apparent shock. Isolde blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the situation. The man's broad shoulders blocked the moonlight, casting his face in shadow, but there was no mistaking the raw masculinity emanating from him. Her confusion deepened as awareness spread through her body—and with it, the realization that her rescuer was completely, utterly naked.

Her eyes widened, a flush warming her cheeks despite her exhaustion and wooziness. The blush spread rapidly down her neck as her gaze inadvertently dipped lower for a split second before snapping back to his face.

"This complicates things," he muttered, the deep rumble of his voice seeming directed more at himself than at her.

Isolde opened her mouth to speak, but her body betrayed her as another violent coughing fit overtook her. Her lungs burned as she expelled more seawater, her body convulsing with each racking cough. The man's strong arms pulled her against his hard, warm chest, his skin radiating heat that penetrated her soaked clothes.

A man is holding me. A very naked, very muscular, very... well-endowed man is cradling me like I weigh nothing, her brain supplied unhelpfully as she continued to cough. When the fit finally subsided, Isolde twisted away, pointedly averting her eyes.

"What—" Her voice came out as a rasp. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What happened?"

Instead of answering, the stranger shifted his weight, his presence overwhelming even without looking directly at him. The motion triggered a cascade of fragmented memories in Isolde's mind: the peaceful beach walk, the impossible wave rising out of nowhere, the terrifying sensation of being pulled into the depths. Then... a man's voice in the darkness, trying to guide her. And strangest of all, the warm nuzzle of what she could've sworn was a wolf's muzzle against her cheek after being deposited on the sand.

That can't be right. Wolves don't swim miles in the ocean to rescue people. I must have been dreaming.

"I was just taking a sunset walk," Isolde murmured, more to herself than to him. "The wave came out of nowhere."

She rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of the fragments. "Were you... swimming?" She glanced quickly at his naked form before fixing her gaze firmly on a piece of driftwood several feet away. "Skinny dipping, I guess?"

The man remained silent, his breathing steady and controlled beside her as if weighing his response carefully.

Isolde hugged her knees to her chest, suddenly realizing how cold she felt in her wet clothes. "The research station," she gasped, memories flooding back now. "Did the wave hit it? There could be people hurt!"

Isolde suddenly shot to her feet, swaying slightly as her head spun from the abrupt movement. "Oh my God, the research station—Dr. Thompson was staying late to finish a report on the dolphin migration patterns, and Marcos always works past midnight in the lab, and?—"

The naked stranger rose fluidly, towering over her with an authority that seemed almost primal. His muscular frame continued to block the moonlight, casting long shadows across the sand. He started speaking in a commanding baritone that rippled through the night air.

"The researchers are safe. I pulled everyone out myself. They're all accounted for, gathered a couple miles up the beach. They didn't know you were there, which is why no one was looking for you."

But Isolde barely registered his words. Her mind raced with images of her colleagues, her work, the years of research that might be destroyed. What if someone had been in the storage room checking on samples? Would emergency services arrive in time? Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out whatever the stranger was saying.

"Are you even listening to me?" His voice cut through her spiral of anxious thoughts.

"What? I—no, sorry." Isolde shook her head, droplets of seawater flying from her tangled blonde hair. "I was thinking about the station and all our research and?—"

Without warning, his strong hands clamped onto her shoulders, spinning her around to face him directly. Her breath caught in her throat as those intense blue eyes captured hers, demanding her full attention. The moonlight carved shadowsbeneath his cheekbones, highlighting a face that could've been sculpted by a Renaissance master.

"Look at me," he commanded, and Isolde found herself obeying without question. "Everyone is safe. I've already called for help."

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