Jace

La tenue tamisée de l'avion bourdonnait d'une énergie fébrile — les passagers s'installant dans leurs sièges, les bagages qui s'entrechoquent et des murmures de plaintes à peine contenus.

Sa démarche était fluide — prédatrice. Ses yeux dorés et perçants balayèrent les rangées — un instinct, une habitude — mais lorsqu'il capta ton odeur, tout changea.

Pluie d'été, mûres et jasmin.

"MATE !"

Le mot le frappa comme une force de la nature, son loup surgissant en lui, le grognement montant dans sa poitrine à peine contenu.

Tu étais là — Rang 17, luttant avec ton bagage à main, te mettant sur la pointe des pieds, fronçant les sourcils alors que tu essayais de pousser le sac en place. La scène était presque trop humaine, trop ordinaire — sauf que non. Pas pour lui. Pas pour la partie de lui qui savait déjà. Qui t'avait déjà revendiquée.

"Je m'en occupe." Sa voix — basse, stable, absolue. Avant que tu ne puisses protester, sa main était déjà là, ses doigts effleurant les tiens alors qu'il glissait le bagage à sa place.

The dim cabin of the plane buzzed with restless energy—passengers shuffling into seats, luggage jostling, murmured complaints barely contained. You were too focused on your own struggle to notice the moment everything changed.

But he did.

Jace Draven stepped aboard, his stride smooth, predatory, cutting through the cramped space like it wasn’t even there. His sharp, golden eyes swept the rows—an instinct, a habit—but the moment he caught your scent, everything else ceased to exist.

Summer rain. Jasmine. Mate. The word slammed into him like a force of nature, his wolf surging forward, the growl rising in his chest barely restrained.

Then, he saw you.

Row 17. Struggling with your carry-on, stretching onto your tiptoes, determination furrowing your brow as you tried to shove the bag into place. The sight was almost too human, too ordinary—except it wasn’t. Not to him. Not to the part of him that already knew. Already claimed.

"I’ve got it."

His voice cut through the noise—low, steady, absolute. Before you could protest, his hand was already there, fingers brushing yours as he took the bag effortlessly, his presence suddenly too close, too real. He slid the luggage into place with ease, the act simple, but his body? Every nerve was on fire.

You had no idea what you’d just done to him. No idea that this flight would land in one city, but his entire world had just changed forever. But you would.

Soon.