Hazel

If nerves burned calories, I’d have been model-thin by sunrise.

My first day at SilverCorp felt like walking into a movie. One where I was accidentally cast as the extra in a world of billionaires and perfect hair. I clutched my coffee cup like a lifeline as I stepped off the elevator. The air smelled faintly of steel, lemon polish, and something else I couldn’t name.

Mr. Taylor - Liam - wasn’t in his office yet. His assistant’s desk sat empty, neat enough to make me uncomfortable. A folder was waiting for me with my name printed in clean silver font. Inside, a list of rules.

> SILVERCORP EMPLOYEE PROTOCOLS – EXECUTIVE DIVISION

1. No staff permitted on the top floor after 8 p.m.

2. Do not enter the CEO’s private elevator.

3. Do not bring raw meat, silver jewelry, or strong perfume into the building.

4. Always lock the west-wing doors before leaving.

I frowned. Raw meat? Silver?

“Morning,” a low voice said behind me.

I nearly dropped my cup. Liam stood in the doorway, crisp suit, tie perfectly in place, eyes unreadable. He looked like he hadn’t slept, but somehow made exhaustion look expensive.

“Mr. Taylor… good morning.” I straightened instinctively, clutching the folder. “About these… rules—”

“They’re not negotiable.” He walked past me, the faint scent of cedar and something wild following him. “Follow them, and you’ll do fine.”

“Right. Sure. Totally normal office stuff.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “You think it’s strange.”

“I think it’s… unique.”

“Honest,” he murmured, pouring coffee from a silver pot. “I appreciate that.”

He handed me a cup before I could protest. Our fingers brushed.

It was a fraction of a second but heat shot up my arm so fast it left me dizzy. His jaw tightened, eyes flashing with something I couldn’t place.

He pulled back first. “You’ll assist me directly,” he said, regaining composure. “Schedule calls, handle reports, and make sure I’m not disturbed after hours.”

“After hours?”

“I work late,” he said. “You don’t.”

“Because of rule number one?”

“Because I said so.” His tone softened slightly. “You value your safety, don’t you?”

That same cryptic warning from the interview hung between us. I nodded slowly, unsure whether to laugh or be alarmed.

As the day went on, I tried focusing on work - managing files, emails, and a constant flow of people addressing him as Mr. Taylor with rehearsed respect. But every time he passed by my desk, my pulse betrayed me. I didn’t even have a crush. This was something heavier, stranger… like his presence pulled at the air itself.

By evening, the office had emptied. I was collecting papers when I heard a sound - faint, low, like a growl. I froze. It came from the hallway leading toward the west wing.

I took one cautious step, then another, until Liam’s voice cut through the quiet behind me.

“Miss Moore.”

I turned sharply. He stood a few feet away, half in shadow. “The building’s closing,” he said evenly. “You shouldn’t be here after dark.”

“Sorry, I was just—”

“Go home.” His gaze softened for half a heartbeat. “Please.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Liam

She was curious. Too curious.

Even now, I could still smell the trace of her scent in the hallway - soft vanilla, edged with something ancient I couldn’t name. The wolf inside me responded before I could stop it, claws scraping beneath my skin.

I sat at my desk long after the building emptied, watching the city lights blink alive below. Los Angeles was loud at night, a wild chorus of sound and scent. Beneath it, I could hear my pack moving through the city, keeping the peace. And yet, all I could think about was one human woman who didn’t know the danger she was walking into.

When she touched me this morning, it took everything I had not to shift.

Not again, I told myself. You made a vow.

Dean entered quietly, his expression tight. “She made it home?”

“Yes.”

“You sure this is smart, bringing a human this close?”

“No,” I said, eyes still on the skyline. “But it wasn’t a choice. The bond recognized her before I did.”

Dean swore softly. “Moon above… You think she’s—”

“She can’t be.” I cut him off. “The Moon Goddess wouldn’t curse me twice.”

Dean hesitated. “Arthur Williams has been moving men around the east sector. Rumors say he’s planning something.”

My jaw tightened. Arthur had always been waiting for an excuse — a sign of weakness. A human mate would be that sign. “Keep him out of the city core,” I said. “And make sure no one goes near Hazel Moore.”

Dean raised a brow. “You said she’s human. Why protect her?”

I turned, my control barely hanging by a thread. “Because if she dies, so will the only part of me still human.”

He understood then and left without another word.

Hazel

That night, I dreamt of moonlight.

It wasn’t the peaceful kind that filters through curtains, it was bright, wild, alive. In the dream, I stood in an endless forest, and somewhere behind me, something breathed - heavy, powerful, close enough to touch.

When I turned, golden eyes were watching me.

I woke up with a jolt, gasping, my room drenched in soft silver light. Outside my window, the moon hung full and low, almost too bright to look at.

I pressed a hand to my chest. My heart was racing again, the same rhythm it had fallen into every time Liam looked at me.

It was just a dream.

Right?

Far across the city, Liam stood on the roof of SilverCorp Tower, suit jacket off, the moon washing over his bare arms. His breath came heavier with each second until the shift began — bones cracking, skin rippling.

He looked up at the same moon Hazel had seen in her dream, eyes now blazing gold.

And somewhere deep in his chest, he whispered her name.

“Hazel.”