Mated To The Possessive Wolf Admiral

The biological heat wave was a firestorm in his veins. Evander knelt on the cold alloy floor of the isolation chamber, his body a warzone. His hands, knuckles white, dug into the metallic surface as if trying to anchor himself to reality. A guttural sound, more beast than man, tore from his throat. He forced his head up, his vision blurred and stained red at the edges. The vital signs on the wall-mounted monitor were a screaming crimson blur. HEART RATE: CRITICAL. ADRENAL OUTPUT: LETHAL. The sterile, mechanical voice of the AI unit, T518, echoed the visual alarm. The sound grated on his raw nerves, pulling another ragged snarl from his chest. He had to get to the suppressant. He lunged for the small metal table across the room, where a single dose of high-concentration inhibitor waited. But a violent spasm seized his muscles. His arm, intended to grab the vial, instead sent the entire table flying. It crashed against the far wall with a deafening shriek of tortured metal. The glass vial shattered. The blue liquid within hissed as it evaporated instantly on the floor. Gone. A wave of pure, black despair washed over him. Evander closed his eyes, bracing for the final loss of self. With a series of heavy, percussive thuds, four-inch-thick titanium bolts slammed into place, sealing the chamber. The system had judged him too dangerous. All external access was severed. His breathing became a harsh, rasping pant. The bones in his fingers began to shift, his nails elongating, scraping against the floor with a sound like knives on stone. Just as the last vestiges of his humanity were about to be swallowed by the tide, a sound broke the suffocating silence. A faint click. It came from the corner of the room, from a black supply crate marked with the highest level of military secrecy. In the dead quiet of the chamber, the sound was a gunshot. Evander's ears, suddenly hypersensitive, twitched. The primal territorial instinct of the beast inside him fought back the hormonal flood, demanding he identify the intruder. The external pressure lock on the crate hissed, releasing a plume of white, cryogenic gas that swirled around its base, chilling the air. Evander's body coiled, his center of gravity lowering. He was a predator poised to strike, his blood-red eyes fixed on the box. The lid wasn't blown off. It was pushed open. By a hand. A slender, pale hand with long, graceful fingers. A hand utterly devoid of the calluses and scars of a soldier. The sight shattered Evander's combat-honed expectations. A woman sat up from inside the crate. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of ink. She rubbed her temples, a slight frown on her face as if trying to shake off the dizzying effects of a spatial jump. The cold air hit her lungs, and she coughed. A soft, delicate sound. The sound made the coiled muscles in Evander's back go rigid. She opened her eyes. They were a clear, startling blue, and they took in the cold, metallic walls with a detached curiosity. A flicker of red light reflected in their depths. WARNING: UNIDENTIFIED BIOLOGICAL HORMONE CONCENTRATION AT DANGEROUS LEVELS. The alert from her internal AI system, Blue, scrolled across her retina. Her brow furrowed slightly. Her head turned, and her gaze cut through the dim, red-lit gloom. It landed on him. On the massive, dangerous shape huddled in the corner. The moment Evander saw her face, his pupils contracted to pinpricks. His breath caught in his throat. For one impossible second, the rampaging fire in his blood went still. Anastasia felt the shift in his posture, the raw, murderous intent radiating from him. Her first instinct was to call upon the wellspring of Alpha power within her, to meet his aggression with overwhelming force. But there was nothing. The trans-dimensional laws of this new universe had suppressed her Alpha pheromones and energy fields, leaving her unable to project her usual dominance, though her genetically engineered physical strength remained intact. She adapted in a nanosecond. "Blue, status report," she commanded internally. "Dimensional storage intact. Basic tactical gear accessible," the AI responded instantly. The defensive tension flowed out of her body. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes widened, her expression shifting to that of a startled, terrified fawn. She shrank back against the edge of the crate. A thick, pained sound worked its way up Evander's throat. He tried to form a word, a question, a command. But what came out was a low, hoarse gasp that sounded terrifyingly close to a howl. Anastasia's mind was a supercomputer. His physical state, the warning from Blue, the overwhelming scent of raw power and desperation in the air-it all clicked into place. This man was in the throes of some kind of extreme reproductive cycle. Carefully, she placed one hand on the crate's edge and swung a long, bare leg over the side. Her feet, small and arched, made no sound as they touched the freezing alloy floor. The sight of her bare feet on the cold metal sent a jolt through Evander's system. He instinctively recoiled, pressing himself harder against the wall, his hands fumbling for the very shackles he had been fighting against. He had to restrain himself. He had to, or he would tear her apart. Anastasia's eyes flickered to the heavy cuffs bolted to the wall, and the chains leading to his wrists. A flicker of appreciation, cold and analytical, passed through her mind. But her face remained a mask of pure, trembling fear. She didn't run. She took a small, deliberate step toward him. The chains groaned as Evander yanked them taut, the alloy screaming in protest. He squeezed his eyes shut, every muscle in his body locked in a war against the urge to lunge, to claim, to possess. "Get out," he forced the words through his clenched teeth, the sound a raw, mangled growl. The command was laced with a crushing wave of spiritual pressure, enough to make a normal person faint. Anastasia merely tilted her head, her eyelashes fluttering as if she were on the verge of tears. She took another step. The space between them shrank to a razor's edge. She lifted her gaze, her clear blue eyes meeting his tormented red ones. And in a voice as soft as falling snow, she broke the standoff.