The apartment building was a dump, plain and simple.
Peeling gray paint clung desperately to the walls, and the flickering fluorescent light in the hallway buzzed like an angry hornet. Heather shifted her heavy duffel bag from one shoulder to the other, the strap digging into her skin. Her beat-up suitcase wheels caught on a crack in the linoleum as she followed the landlord down the narrow corridor.
“This is it,” the middle-aged man said, stopping in front of door 2B. He jangled his keys, not quite meeting her eyes. “Rent’s due on the first. No exceptions.”
Heather forced a bright smile, the kind she’d perfected over the years to hide how close she was to breaking. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much, Mr. Ruiz.”
He grunted, unlocking the door. The apartment smelled like old wood and faint mildew, but it was cheap. That was the only thing that mattered right now. With her mom gone for two years and her deadbeat father long written off—Heather hadn’t spoken to him in eighteen months—she had exactly $187 in her bank account and nowhere else to go. Sydney had already let her crash on her couch for two weeks straight. She couldn’t impose anymore.
Mr. Ruiz pushed the door open. Heather stepped inside, eyes scanning the small living room. A sagging couch, one rickety coffee table, and two doors leading to what she assumed were the bedrooms and bathroom.
Then the landlord cleared his throat. “One thing I forgot to mention… it’s a shared unit.”
Heather froze. “Shared?”
“Yeah. Someone’s already paid six months upfront. Cash. Nice guy. Quiet.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “You’ll have your own room, obviously. Bathroom’s shared.”
Her stomach dropped. “I… I can’t afford anything else. Is there another unit? Please?”
Mr. Ruiz sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, kid. This is what I got. I can call him real quick and see if he minds a roommate. If not, you’re out of luck.”
Heather clutched the strap of her bag tighter, heart hammering. She had classes starting in three days at community college. No car. No family. Just her and the clothes in her suitcase.
“Please,” she whispered. “I have nowhere else.”
The landlord muttered under his breath and pulled out his phone. He stepped into the hallway, speaking in low tones. Heather strained to listen but only caught fragments: “…new tenant… broke college girl… yeah, she seems harmless…”
A long pause.
Then Mr. Ruiz returned, looking surprised. “He said okay. You can move in.”
Relief flooded through her so fast her knees almost buckled. “Thank you! Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” the landlord said, handing her the keys. “He’s a bit… intense. Just stay out of his way and you’ll be fine.”
Heather barely heard him. She was already dragging her suitcase inside, a determined smile on her face. Free-spirited, that’s what Sydney always called her. She could make this work. She always did.
She spent the next two hours cleaning what she could. Wiping down the tiny kitchen counter, making her small bedroom feel like home with the few photos she owned—one of her and her mom at the beach, another of her and Sydney laughing at a campus fair last year. She even hung up a cheap string of fairy lights she’d brought from her old place.
By the time the sun started setting, she was exhausted but hopeful. She changed into comfortable shorts and a loose tank top, then decided to be proactive. She’d make dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta—and offer some to her new roommate when he got home. Win him over with food. Who could resist that?
A loud slam of the front door made her jump.
Heather peeked out of the kitchen, wooden spoon still in hand. Her breath caught.
He was huge.
Well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders that filled the doorway and dark, tousled hair that fell messily across his forehead. His black t-shirt stretched tight across a powerful chest, and his jeans hung low on narrow hips. But it was his face that pinned her in place—sharp jawline, full lips pressed into a hard line, and eyes so dark they almost looked black.
He dropped a large duffel bag on the floor with a heavy thud.
“Hi!” Heather said, flashing her brightest smile as she stepped forward. “I’m Heather. Your new roommate, I guess. I just moved in today. Thank you for letting me stay—I really appreciate it.”
Aiden didn’t smile back.
Instead, he went completely still. His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled. For a split second, something wild flashed across his face—his eyes seemed to lighten, almost glowing gold before returning to dark. A low, barely audible sound rumbled deep in his chest. Almost like a… growl?
Heather blinked. Must be my imagination.
“I’m Aiden,” he said finally. His voice was deep, rough, like gravel under boots. He didn’t offer a handshake. “Ground rules. Stay out of my room. Don’t touch my stuff. Keep the noise down at night. I work odd hours.”
Heather’s smile faltered for a second but she recovered quickly. “Of course. I’m pretty easygoing. I’m at community college during the day, so I won’t be in your way much. I was just making pasta if you’re hungry—”
“Not hungry,” he cut her off, brushing past her toward the second bedroom. His arm grazed hers, and heat shot through her skin like electricity.
She stood there, spoon still in hand, watching his broad back disappear into the room. The door shut firmly behind him.
Heather let out a slow breath.
Okay… he’s intense. But hot. Really hot.
She turned back to the stove, humming softly to herself. This was going to be interesting.
Inside Aiden’s Room
Aiden pressed his back against the closed door, fists clenched tight enough that his knuckles turned white.
Mate.
The word roared through his mind like thunder. His wolf surged forward, clawing at his control, desperate to break free and claim what belonged to them.
Her scent—fresh rain, wildflowers, and something uniquely her—had slammed into him the second he walked through the door. It wrapped around his senses like a drug. His fangs ached. His body burned.
He was here for one reason only: to hunt the rogue wolves who had murdered his father and massacred half his pack. A secret mission. Low profile. No distractions.
And now this.
Aiden slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the cheap drywall. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t. Claiming a human mate right now would paint a target on her back. It would weaken him. Distract him.
He had to fight it.
No matter how badly his wolf howled for her.
