Howl Of The Heart

A chandelier twinkling, apparently from the heavens, rested overhead from the ceiling of The Silver Crescent Hotel. Ethan Cross, his eyes sharp, scanned down into the sea of tuxedos and gowns standing in the opulent lobby, having reached the top of the sweeping staircase. The Anniversary Gala was full-blown, a glittering exposition of wealth and influence-he had masterminded everything that went on within its gleaming walls. Yet, amidst the murmurs of deals being struck and compliments exchanged, Ethan's mind had strayed far from the polished veneer of the evening.

A faint shiver ran through him. In less than an hour, the full moon would rise.

He tightened his grip on the marble banister, whitening his knuckles. It wasn't just the pull of the moon that daunted him; it was the chaos that tagged along with it. He couldn't afford to lose control tonight, not here, not when every major player in his empire was under one roof.

"Mr. Cross," a voice cut in, drawing him back to the present.

He turned to find Lila Torres standing a few steps below him. Her uniform was crisp, her dark hair neatly pinned back, though a few strands had rebelliously escaped. She held a tray of champagne flutes, her eyes wide with something between nervousness and resolve.

"Yes?" he said, his tone clipped but not unkind.

"One of your guests wanted to see you," she said. Her tone was flat. "A Mr. Calvert. He's in the Blue Lounge."

Ethan's jaw clenched. Of course, Calvert would choose tonight to corner him. The man was relentless in his attempts to acquire the boutique chain Ethan had been eyeing.

"Thank you, Lila. You can return to your duties."

She hesitated, her eyes clinging to his. It wasn't a servile glance, not the kind he received from his staff. It was as if she could see beyond-the tension, the hairline fissures in his carefully crafted armor.

"Something's wrong, Mr. Cross?" she asked low.

It was an unexpected question. "I'm fine," he said shortly. "You may go now.

Lila nodded and went down the stairs, her footsteps light but unhurried. Ethan watched her until she disappeared into the crowd, then exhaled sharply. He couldn't afford distractions, not from her, not from anyone.

She headed to the kitchens, lost in her own thoughts. There was something off about Mr. Cross tonight. Where he was generally collected and stoic, tonight he had seemed...frayed, held together only by a willpower that struggled to keep its grip. She scolded herself as she shook her head. It was not any of her business to notice these kinds of things about the billionaire who signed her paychecks.

Yet, the image of his golden eyes seemed stuck in her brain as she set the empty tray on the counter and turned to take another.

Ethan survived a little over ten minutes in the Blue Lounge before the tension finally became too much. The posturing by Calvert was nothing out of the ordinary, but tonight each word grated on the taut threads of Ethan's patience. The pull of the moon was getting stronger, every second reminding him that time was running out.

With a forced smile, he excused himself and slipped out a side door into the crisp night air. The gardens behind The Silver Crescent were empty, the perfect refuge from the thrumming energy of the gala. The moon hung low on the horizon, its silver light spilling across the manicured lawns.

He doubled over as the first pang of transformation rippled through him. His breaths came in ragged gasps as his vision blurred, the world tilting as pain consumed him. Merciless, the change tore through him like a storm, rebuilding his body into something wild and untamed.

When it was done, Ethan stood on four legs, his giant frame bathed in moonlight. The wolf's instincts raged inside him in a cacophony of urges he fought hard to suppress. He could not risk straying far, not with the gala yet still in full flow. Instead, he prowled the edge of the garden, his keen ears picking up snatches of laughter and music from the ballroom.

A sudden noise froze him in his tracks. Footsteps-soft but deliberate-were coming closer. He crouched low, golden eyes locking onto the source. Lila came out of the shadows, her face puzzled as she looked around.

"Mr. Cross?" she called tentatively.

Ethan's heart pounded. How had she found him? More importantly, why hadn't he heard her coming sooner?

She stepped closer, her eyes sweeping over the garden until they came to a rest on him. Those eyes, so big, seemed to balloon, and then neither of them moved.

The tray shook from Lila's hands, hitting the floor with a loud clatter, making them both jump. Ethan growled, instinctive, low and guttural, the reaction of an animal. But Lila merely took a backward step, then stood there frozen in her spot, peering deeper into his eyes.

It's you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Ethan's wolf stilled, the primal urges momentarily quelled by her unwavering gaze. He didn't know how, but she had seen past the beast to the man within. And in that instant, Ethan knew his inmost secret was no longer his alone.