Mindlink Command

POV: ELOWEN

The question hangs in the suffocating air of the grand office. I reach into my pocket, pull out a folded tissue, and spit my chewing gum into it. I lean over and toss the crumpled wad into the metal waste bin beside his massive mahogany desk. A desperate, foolish hope flickers in my chest that discarding the gum might somehow appease him, softening the harsh lines of his jaw.

It does not work.

The man sitting across from me remains a statue carved from solid stone. He is a far cry from the lovable boy I adored before leaving this pack five years ago. His broad shoulders fill out his dark shirt, and his presence commands the room without him having to move a single muscle. The silence stretches between us, thick and antagonistic, beating against my eardrums. I shift my weight in the leather chair, waiting for an answer to my question.

He finally meets my gaze. His dark blue eyes hold a magnetic, hypnotic pull that traps the breath in my throat. I had forgotten how striking those eyes were, but sitting here under their intense focus makes my pulse hammer against my ribs.

"Did you by any chance reject the pack five years ago when you left?" he asks, his voice a low, smooth baritone that echoes in the quiet room. "Or maybe within the last few years?"

A rush of heat floods my cheeks. The sudden interrogation catches me off guard, scrambling my thoughts. I grip the armrests of the chair to steady my trembling hands.

"What? Denounce what? No. What were you asking again?" I stammer, furious at the way my voice shakes. "I did not even know I could do such a thing. Reject you as my Alpha? No, I did not."

He watches my flustered reaction for a long moment. Then, the rigid tension in his shoulders eases. He relaxes back into the depths of his heavy leather chair, steepling his fingers together over his lap.

"Good to know that you didn't," he notes, his tone steady. "Then we will not need the formality of a ceremony to accept you back into my pack."

I nod, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear to give my hands something to do. I wait for him to elaborate, to ask how I have been, or to welcome me home.

Instead, he simply stares.

He does not blink. He does not speak. He just fixes those hypnotic blue eyes on me, observing me with a predatory stillness. The heavy, physical weight of his unblinking gaze feels like a tangible force pressing against my skin. The air in the office grows ten degrees hotter. The skin on my neck begins to burn, the heat spreading down to my collarbones. The intense scrutiny makes me squirm in my seat.

"Can you not stare at me?" I snap, breaking the suffocating silence. "It is rude."

He merely cocks his head to the side. His facial expression remains a rigid mask, showing zero signs of apology.

"Is it making you uncomfortable?" he points out, his voice a slow, deliberate drawl. "You used to ask me to look at you all the time, whether you were dancing, singing, or simply wanting my attention. Now I am giving it to you, and it seems rude?"

"Stop it, Zarek. I am not a kid anymore." I glare at him, pouring every ounce of my rising frustration into the warning.

His head remains perfectly still, but his eyes drop. He deliberately and slowly trails his gaze down my neck, bringing his focus to rest squarely on my chest. He stares openly at my breasts, examining the pronounced swell of my cleavage pushed up by my crossed arms. There is no hesitation, no quick glance to spare my feelings. He takes his time making a direct, visual assessment of my womanhood, letting the physical weight of his scrutiny burn right through the thin fabric of my shirt.

A fresh, violent wave of heat rushes over my entire body. My skin flushes scarlet under his blatant inspection.

His dark blue eyes snap back up to lock onto mine.

"I am very much aware of that," he states coldly.

The intense embarrassment is too much to bear. My face feels like it is on fire. I refuse to sit here and let him humiliate me with his mind games and his unsettling, predatory focus. I push myself up from the chair, my legs slightly shaky, and prepare to storm out of the grand office.

"Do you really need to bring me here just for one question?" I ask, keeping my chin lifted. "You could have saved your precious time and just asked me outside."

I turn on my heel to leave, but his voice stops me cold.

"Why can't I reach your mind-link?" he demands.

I pause, looking back over my shoulder with a physical roll of my eyes. The question seems ridiculous after the agonizing five years I have spent away from this world.

"I do not know. I do not even know how it works," I remind him dismissively, my annoyance leaking into every word. "In case you forgot, I have been living with humans. We do not mind-link. We talk with our mouths. Besides, I will not be needing it. In a few days, I will be out of here."

The shift in the room is instantaneous.

"Explain."

His crushing Alpha aura crashes over me like a collapsed ceiling. The invisible, suffocating pressure slams into my chest, literally silencing the breath in my lungs. My throat seals shut. My knees lock in place. The sheer dominance rolling off his body forces me to stand rigid, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I struggle to pull in a single sliver of oxygen.

"Explain," he commands again.

This time, his voice abruptly shifts from a terrifying, angry rumble to a surprisingly soft request. The crushing weight of the aura lifts just enough for me to drag a ragged breath into my mouth. I straighten my spine, desperate to regain my composure.

"I mean, I do not need the mind-link when I return to live with the humans," I clarify, laying out my absolute intention to leave right after my first shift. "I am only here to shift. Torin convinced me that I needed assistance to survive it. So, here I am."

"You're not staying?"

His voice drops so low it vibrates through the floorboards. If I were not staring at a face void of all emotion, I would swear the question sounded deeply sad. The hidden emotional reaction catches me off guard, making my chest tighten with a strange, fleeting ache.

I push the feeling aside and nod. "No. I am not staying."

Another agonizing stretch of heavy silence follows. He sits in his leather chair, staring at me, refusing to offer a single word of understanding or objection. The quiet beats against my skull, driving my frustration to a boiling point. I refuse to play this waiting game any longer.

"Okay, I am done. Thank you for the warm welcome, Alpha," I say sarcastically, offering a mocked bow.

I turn my back on him and march toward the heavy wooden door, my boots clicking sharply against the polished floor. I reach out and grab the cold metal of the door handle.

"Open your mind-link," he barks the order, his voice cracking like a whip against my back.

I freeze in my tracks, my hand gripping the handle but refusing to turn it. I let out a long, irritated sigh.

"No," I reply without looking back. "I told you, I do not know how."

"Clear your mind and think that you want to communicate with me," he instructs strictly, leaving no room for argument.

A strange flutter of anticipation stirs in my stomach at the thought of connecting with him on such an intimate level. I keep my back to him, refusing to let him see the small smile threatening to curve my lips. Following his strict instructions, I tightly close my eyes. I push away the frustration and the lingering heat of my embarrassment, searching the dark corners of my mind. I try to reach out, to find the invisible tether connecting an Alpha to his pack member.

I wait. I focus harder.

Nothing happens. My mind remains empty and silent.

"It is not working," I mutter, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

*'Elowen?'*

I gasp, my eyes flying open. The word does not come from the air behind me. It echoes directly inside the center of my head, bypassing my ears altogether. The deep, incredibly sexy tone of his mental voice vibrates against my skull, sending a fierce, uncontrollable shiver straight down my spine. It is a raw, intimate intrusion that makes my breath hitch.

I stay rooted firmly in place, too stunned to move.

"Yes, Alpha?" I answer aloud, my voice a breathless whisper.

*'Turn around. Training tomorrow at six in the morning. Do not be late.'*

His mental command rings with undeniable authority. The shock fades, quickly replaced by a surge of rebellion. I let go of the door handle and spin around to face him, my eyes wide with disbelief.

"What? No!" I protest aloud, throwing my hands up. "I do not need to train. I am not aiming to be a warrior."

He sits calmly at his desk, his lips pressed into a firm line.

*'Try talking to me with your mind.'*

He sternly urges me, his face a perfect mask of stoicism. My jaw drops open as the realization hits me. His physical lips have not moved a single fraction of an inch, yet his voice fills my head with crystal clarity. The successful establishment of our direct mind-link sends a rush of pure excitement surging through my veins. The thrill of the magic overrides my annoyance about the sudden training schedule.

I close my eyes for a split second, focusing all my energy on throwing my thoughts back across the invisible bridge connecting us.

*'Hey! It is me, Elowen!'* I link back enthusiastically, my body jerking up slightly with the sheer excitement of making it work.

I open my eyes just in time to catch it. A fleeting, almost invisible smile crosses his face. The subtle curve of his lips transforms his harsh features, offering a split-second glimpse of the boy I used to know. But before I can fully process the rare expression, he looks down at his hands, burying the emotion behind his stone-cold mask once more.

*'I know it is you, Elowen,'* he replies, his mental tone darkening with a sudden, grim seriousness. *'So, tomorrow at six in the morning. You need to train. Your weak human body might legitimately not survive the violent shift in four days if you do not train. You cannot be weak. Some do not make it out alive.'*

The excitement drains from my blood, replaced by a freezing bucket of dread. My eyes grow wide as the terrifying reality of his warning sinks in. The prospect of my bones snapping and my body failing under the strain of a full moon shift is utterly terrifying. I swallow hard, the fear of dying pushing all my stubborn resistance aside.

*'Okay. Six then,'* I agree quickly, my mental voice lacking its previous bravado.

I linger by the heavy wooden door, my fingers twisting into the fabric of my shirt. I wait in the stretching silence, desperately hoping he will look at me again. I want him to offer a word of comfort, or perhaps a flicker of that hidden sadness, or even just another stern command. I want anything that proves the intense connection we just shared meant something to him.

He keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the papers scattered across his mahogany desk. He gives a cold, silent nod of dismissal without sparing me a single glance.

The abrupt rejection stings. I huff in deep frustration, letting my shoulders drop as I turn back to the door.

"Thank you, Alpha," I mutter sarcastically.