Mated by Midnight (Moonlight Mates #3)

Chapter 9

9

“ C an we talk?” Elijah asked. His voice came out rougher than he intended. He gestured toward the porch, where Maize had exiled him to.

Celine hesitated. Her lips pressed together in a tight line before she nodded. “All right.”

She followed him out, the tension between them thick and heavy. It crackled in the air like an unspoken storm ready to break. She kept a careful distance, her posture stiff, her expression neutral. But her eyes—those eyes—betrayed her. They shimmered with unshed tears, the hurt she was trying so hard to hide.

Once they were outside, Elijah couldn't take it anymore. He'd tried to give her some space to adjust to the job and his pack. But he was done waiting. He reached for her. His hand instinctively moved toward her arm, needing to feel her warmth, to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

Celine jerked back, her body tensing like she might bolt. The fear and hurt in her eyes sent a pang of guilt straight through him. For a second, he thought she might actually run.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice softer, pleading. “Not unless you want to get caught again.”

Her eyes flashed, a mix of anger and pain flaring in them. She crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders stiffening. “I’m not worried about being chased by you, Elijah Blackwood. Not when you threw me back the first time.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, like a cold slap to the face. More so the crack in her voice and the shimmer of tears brimming in her eyes than the actual words she said. She turned away before he could respond, her back to him as she stormed toward the office door.

“Celine—” he started, his hand reaching out toward her.

"Actually, no. I don't have time to talk to you. I have work to do instead of playing games with you."

She threw open the office door, her movements sharp and determined. Before he could say another word, she slammed it shut behind her. The sound echoed through the quiet woods like a final, painful note.

Elijah stood there. His hand remained outstretched toward the closed door. The air felt suddenly colder in the afternoon sun. His hand fell back to his side as the reality of it all washed over him.

She was hurting—because of him. And he had no idea how to fix it.

He could still smell her, the faint scent of citrus and wildflowers lingering in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of his own frustration. His wolf stirred restlessly inside him, growling with the need to comfort her, to claim her. Elijah remained rooted to the spot, torn between the bond that pulled him toward her and the nagging voice in his head that whispered he didn’t deserve her.

She didn’t need him. Not when all he had done was push her away, again and again.

The hurt in her eyes had been unbearable. It tore at him now, like a claw scraping deep into his chest. He had seen it the moment she’d turned to face him—the glimmer of pain, the tears she refused to let fall in front of him. He had been the cause of it all.

No one should be saddled with a mate like him.

The thought burrowed deep, lodging itself in the pit of his stomach. Celine deserved better than him. She deserved someone who wouldn’t hesitate. Someone who would chase her without fear. Someone who would give her the love and commitment she deserved.

Elijah… he wasn’t that man. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He turned away from the door, his heart heavy with regret. As much as he wanted to go after her, to fix things, he knew that right now, he couldn’t. He wasn’t what she needed. He wasn’t what she deserved.

So for now, Elijah did the only thing he knew how to do. He left her alone.

Elijah found Caleb sitting on the worn stone bench outside the bank, his usual spot, the one where he could keep watch. It was almost a ritual at this point—Caleb sitting there every day, his eyes occasionally flicking up to the large glass windows of the bank’s corner office. Inside, his rejected mate was at work, as she always was. The bank’s vice president. The woman Caleb couldn’t touch but couldn’t let go of either.

The sun was starting to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows across the street. The town bustled around them, the usual afternoon traffic moving by. Caleb sat in stillness, his back straight, his eyes trained on that window.

Elijah approached quietly, his boots scuffing the ground as he lowered himself onto the bench beside Caleb. They didn’t face each other—Caleb’s gaze never left the office building. Elijah felt the weight of the conversation they were about to have hanging in the air between them. The brothers often communicated in silence, but this time, Elijah needed words.

“How do you do it?” Elijah asked after a long pause, his voice rough. “How do you watch her and not step in?”

Caleb didn’t move for a moment, his posture still rigid. Eventually, he let out a low sigh. “I believe fate will have its way.”

His brother was the most practical, logical person he knew. Everything about Caleb was calculated and controlled. Yet now, here he sat, talking about fate as though it was the one thing he relied on.

“Fate?” Elijah turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder at Caleb. “Since when do you believe in fate?”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Caleb’s lips, but his eyes remained fixed on the window. “Since I realized that no matter what I do, she’s not ready. I could fight, I could push... but it won’t change anything. She has to come to me.”

Caleb’s calm acceptance was something Elijah couldn’t wrap his head around. His brother, the one who always had a plan, who always took action, was just... waiting. Watching. He hadn’t rejected his fated mate—she had rejected him. And yet, here Caleb was, sitting in this same spot day after day, hoping that one day things would change.

“How do you know fate won’t screw you over?” Elijah asked, bitterness creeping into his tone. He shifted, resting his elbows on his knees, watching the steady stream of people walking in and out of the bank. “What if she never comes around?”

Caleb finally turned, just slightly, enough to give Elijah a sidelong glance. “I don’t know that. But she’s my mate, Elijah. I can feel it, even if she can’t right now. And that bond? It’s stronger than anything I could do to force her hand. So I wait.”

Could Elijah do that? Could he just wait? He’d spent hours agonizing over the bond with Celine, wanting to fix everything, to make things right. But every time he got close, he only hurt her more.

Maybe he’d been going about this the wrong way. Maybe trying to chase her, to corner her, had been a mistake.

He turned his gaze back to the office he’d been shut out of earlier. Celine was in there, behind the door she had slammed in his face. He couldn’t see her, but he didn’t need to. He felt her presence, the bond between them tugging at his chest, reminding him with every breath that she was near. Her scent still lingered in the air, that sweet mix of wildflowers and citrus, pulling him closer even though she was out of sight.

He couldn’t see her, couldn’t touch her, but he was acutely aware of her. It was maddening, knowing she was just beyond that door, so close yet so far.

He sat and watched the door all day, barely moving from the bench. The minutes ticked by in a blur of anticipation. The sounds of the town faded into the background—the distant hum of conversation, the occasional car passing by, even the steady rustle of the leaves in the trees above them—all of it was drowned out by the steady thrum of the bond between him and Celine.

He glanced at Caleb, who hadn’t moved, his eyes still trained on the bank office. He was calm, composed, resigned to whatever fate had in store. Elijah wasn’t built that way. The fire inside him was too wild, too restless to simply sit and hope that fate would do him a favor. Then again, what had chasing Celine done except drive her further away?

Maybe Caleb was right. Maybe fate had to play its part. But damn it if he didn't hope fate hurried up.

As though fate heard him, the office door finally opened. And there she was, stepping out with a stack of sketchbooks in her hand, her face set in a mask of focus. His heart lurched in his chest, every muscle in his body tensing with the urge to go to her, to say something, to make her see him standing there.

But he didn’t move.

Celine paused at the top of the stairs. Her gaze swept across the street. And then... their eyes met. It was just them, locked in that silent gaze, the bond between them humming like a live wire.

Elijah’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. But he didn’t step forward. He didn’t approach her. Instead, he did what Caleb had been doing for years. He waited.

Celine blinked, her expression flickering with something unreadable. Hurt, maybe? Or confusion? For a moment, Elijah wondered if he'd screwed it all up again. Maybe he should go to her now. Maybe she would accept whatever little he had to give her.

The moment he gave the command to his body to rise was the exact same moment that she turned away. She headed down the steps, giving him her back as she walked away from him.

Elijah exhaled, his hands curling into fists as he fought the urge to go after her. But he stayed rooted to the bench, his chest tight with the weight of his decision. If fate was going to bring them together, it had to be on her terms, not his.

He only hoped that fate didn’t take its damn time.