Moonbound: The Alpha's Chosen

The antique shop bell tinkled as Emily entered, notebook in hand. She'd arranged this interview under the pretense of a feature story on local businesses, but her real purpose was to probe Alexander about his cryptic message.

"Ms. Grey," Alexander emerged from behind a display case, his smile predatory. "Right on time."

Today he wore a burgundy vest over a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal powerful forearms. Despite his apparent age, his physique suggested a man in his prime.

"Thank you for agreeing to the interview," Emily said professionally.

"Oh, I doubt it's my modest shop that interests you," Alexander replied, gesturing toward a back room. "Tea?"

The private office reflected sophisticated taste—leather-bound books, antique maps, a tea service that looked genuinely Victorian. Emily perched cautiously on an offered chair.

"Your message mentioned my mother," she said, dispensing with pretense.

Alexander poured amber liquid that definitely wasn't tea into two crystal glasses. "Helena Grey. Brilliant, beautiful... and desperately missed by those who knew her true nature."

Emily accepted the drink but didn't sip. "You knew her?"

"Intimately," Alexander's eyes gleamed with memory. "She moved through our community like wildfire—unpredictable, untamable."

"Our community?"

Alexander smiled enigmatically. "Those with... special heritage. Like yours."

Emily's pendant warmed against her skin. "I don't understand."

"You will." Alexander leaned forward, his cologne enveloping her—sandalwood with something musky beneath. "Tomorrow night's auction features items that belonged to your mother. Family heirlooms she was forced to abandon."

Emily's heart raced. "That's impossible. All her belongings went to my father when she died."

"Not these." Alexander's fingers brushed hers as he handed her an embossed invitation. "Important people will attend—people who knew Helena. Who can tell you who you really are."

The invitation felt heavy, expensive—"Celestial Antiquities: Lunar Collection Auction."

"Why help me?" Emily asked, suspicion rising. "What do you gain?"

Alexander's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Let's call it family obligation."

"We're not family."

"Aren't we?" His gaze dropped to her pendant. "That symbol marks you as one of us, whether you understand it yet or not."

Emily stood, suddenly claustrophobic. "I should go."

Alexander rose in one fluid motion, moving with uncanny grace for his size. "My driver will collect you tomorrow. Wear something... elegant." His eyes traced her figure appreciatively. "The blue dress in your closet would be perfect."

Emily froze. "How do you know what's in my closet?"

"A guess," he replied smoothly. "Blue suits your complexion."

At the door, Alexander caught her elbow. The contact sent an unexpected shiver through her body—not unpleasant, but disquieting.

"One piece of advice," he murmured, lips close to her ear. "Don't keep your appointment with my nephew tonight. Lucas isn't what he seems."

Emily jerked away. "You're having me followed."

"Protected," Alexander corrected. "These are dangerous times for someone with your... potential."

Outside, Emily gulped fresh air, mind racing. The invitation burned in her purse like a live coal. Her journalist's instinct screamed "trap," but the promise of answers about her mother was too compelling to ignore.

Her phone buzzed—Catherine, demanding an update. Emily hesitated, then replied: "Following promising lead. Story developing."

What she didn't add was that the story increasingly seemed to be about herself.