Mated To The Possessive Wolf Admiral

The energy from the SSS-grade serum detonated inside Anastasia's body like a small star. The sheer potency was far beyond what Blue had estimated.

A searing heat coursed through her limbs. Her normally pale skin flushed with an unnatural, feverish red.

ENERGY OVERLOAD, Blue's warning flashed urgently in her mind. HOST'S CURRENT PHYSIOLOGY CANNOT FULLY METABOLIZE. INITIATING FORCED HIBERNATION AND ABSORPTION PROTOCOL.

Damn it, Anastasia cursed internally. A wave of exhaustion, heavy and absolute, crashed over her. Her legs gave out, and she pitched forward.

Evander, who had been watching her from the corner of his eye, felt his heart seize. He moved like a phantom, a blur of motion, crossing the room in an instant.

He caught her just before her head could hit the unforgiving alloy floor, scooping her up into his arms.

The moment her soft, pliant body was in his embrace, every muscle in his body went rigid. He stopped breathing.

She was already unconscious. Her head lolled against his broad, hard chest, her warm breath seeping through the fabric of his uniform.

He looked down at the girl in his arms. She felt as light as a feather, as fragile as spun glass. He was terrified that the slightest pressure would break her.

He tightened his arms, his movements impossibly gentle for a man of his size and power.

There was no bed in the isolation chamber. Evander scanned the stark room, his eyes landing on the large, padded mat he used for meditation.

He carried her over, knelt on one knee, and slowly, carefully, laid her down. He lingered for a moment, his large, warm hand still cradling her head to ensure she was settled comfortably on the mat.

He didn't leave. He sat down beside the mat, cross-legged, a silent, unmoving sentinel.

And then, something miraculous happened.

As Anastasia's breathing evened out, a faint, almost imperceptible scent began to emanate from her. It was a pure, sweet, and incredibly soothing aroma, like a cool rain after a long drought.

It washed over Evander, and the raging fire of his heat cycle, a condition that the Empire's best doctors had been unable to manage, was simply... extinguished.

He stared in disbelief. The years of torment, the constant battle for control, the agonizing pain-it was all gone.

His wolf ears twitched, no longer flattened in misery but relaxed and comfortable. His tail, which had been coiled in a knot of tension, unfurled and began to sweep gently back and forth across the floor.

He gazed at Anastasia's sleeping face. The fear and desperation in his eyes slowly melted away, replaced by a deep, profound fascination.

He reached out a rough, calloused finger, wanting to touch her cheek, to feel if she was real. But he stopped, a half-inch from her skin, afraid to wake her.

I am a soldier, he told himself, a desperate attempt to frame his feelings in the familiar logic of duty. My duty is to protect the weak.

But it was a lie, and he knew it. In this brutal, predatory Empire, a high-grade Omega was the most valuable resource, a prize that the most powerful Alphas would kill for.

If she walked out of this room, she would be devoured by the greedy hyenas of the royal court and the powerful clans.

A savage, unprecedented wave of possessiveness took root in his soul. His wolfish eyes glowed with a feral green light in the darkness.

He would not give her to anyone.

She was his. His salvation. A treasure delivered by the gods directly into his territory.

He made a vow. When she woke up, he would use the full might of the First Fleet's intelligence network to discover who she was, where she came from. He would solve all her problems.

And no matter what he found, he would make her his Primary Consort. His one and only.

To ensure her absolute safety, he activated his personal star-brain and issued a new directive to the chamber's AI.

"Override all access. Highest priority silent-protocol. If anyone other than me attempts to open this door, initiate self-destruct sequence." He recorded the command in a voice of ice and steel.

With that done, he turned his gaze back to Anastasia. He couldn't bring himself to close his eyes, terrified that if he did, he would wake up and find this was all just a fever dream.

As the night deepened, the most feared Admiral in the Empire became the most loyal watchdog, standing guard over a stranger's sleep.