Chapter 1 Coffee and Lies - His Human Mate

Ivy’s POV

I didn't know why I said yes.

That was what bothered me most as I walked beside him to the coffee shop. Not the cracked wall. Not what I saw in the alley. Not the fact that a stranger had somehow taken me home last night and was now standing in my lecture hall asking questions he clearly already knew the answers to.

What bothered me was that I'd said yes.

I didn't do this. I didn't follow strange men to coffee shops. I didn't accept cards from people who appeared in empty rooms knowing my name, my address and exactly where I'd been at seven that morning.

I had rules. Careful, strict rules built from years of seeing what happened when you trusted the wrong person.

And yet here I was.

Walking beside Caden Blackwell — that was the name on the card. On a Tuesday morning like this was normal.

He walked like he owned the street.

Not loud. Not aggressively. Just certain. Like the space around him already belonging to him and everything else moved around it.

People stepped aside without thinking. A group of students parted around us without looking up from their phones. A delivery man moved out of the way at the last second, like something in his body told him to.

No one looked at Caden Blackwell.

I noticed that. I noticed everything. Old habit.

The coffee shop was small. Warm. The kind of place that had been there for years and intended to be there for more — mismatched chairs, a chalkboard menu, the smell of something baking underneath the smell of coffee.

He held the door.

I walked in without reacting and chose the table myself. Corner. Back to the wall. Clear view of the front door and windows.

He sat across from me without a word.

The quick look he gave the room told me he had seen the same thing I had and had picked this place for those reasons. That should have made me feel safe. It didn't.

The server came. He ordered black coffee without looking at the menu. I ordered the same. I wasn't going to sit here with a fancy drink while he watched me with those eyes.

Those eyes.

Dark. Steady. Not just one color but several — deep brown at the edge, almost black at the center. They didn't move like most people's eyes. No flickering, no searching. Just still. Like he had chosen where to look and saw no reason to change it.

Right now, he was looking at me. I set the card on the table between us.

"Start talking," I said.

Something moved at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. Just a hint. Gone before it settled.

"How much do you remember from last night?" he asked.

"I asked first."

He paused. Looked at me like he was adjusting something in his head.

"Blackwell Security was hired by several businesses in this area after a series of incidents over the past two months," he said. "Disturbances. Property damage. Reports of aggressive strays. Last night I was running a perimeter check when I came across you in the passage."

"And the dog."

The coffee came. He wrapped both hands around his cup. Large hands. I noticed that too — the way I noticed everything, stored it, and filed it somewhere useful.

"What kind of security contractor does a perimeter check on foot?" I asked. "Alone. At ten at night."

"The thorough kind."

"That's not an answer."

"No," he agreed. "It isn't."

I looked at him. He looked back.

That was the thing about Caden Blackwell I couldn't place — the way he held eye contact. It should have felt like a threat. In my experience men who looked at you like that were either trying to dominate you or trying to win you over.

This felt like either. It felt like being seen by something that was very old and very patient, something that had decided to give you its full attention.

It made something shift in my chest. I didn't have a name for it. I looked away first. Picked up my coffee. Took a slow sip.

"How did you know I went back to the alley this morning?" I asked.

"We had eyes on the area."

"On me or the area?"

A pause. "The area."

Another answer that sounded real but said very little. He was good at that. He spoke in a way that stayed true but left out what mattered. I knew that kind of speech. I grew up hearing it.

"Mr. Blackwell—"

"Caden."

I looked up. He said it simply. Not a command. Not trying to charm me. Just a correction, quiet and direct.

"Caden," I said. The name felt strange in my mouth. Too familiar in a way it had no right to be. "What aren't you telling me?"

Something shifted in his expression. Small. Subtle. Not on the surface — deeper. Like he made a choice and deliberately held back.

"The incidents in this area are more serious than we initially told the public," he said carefully. "The animal that attacked you last night wasn't the only one. There have been others."

"Others."

"Other attacks. Other people." He paused. "You weren't chosen randomly."

The coffee cup stopped halfway to my mouth.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you should be careful." His voice stayed even, but his eyes didn't. Something moved in them — low anger, tightly held. "It means you shouldn't walk alone at night. Shouldn't take shortcuts through unlit passages. Don't—"

"Why me?" My voice came out softer than I intended. "You said I wasn't chosen randomly. Why me?"

The question sat between us. He looked at me for a long moment. Something crack in his composure. Small. Quick. Gone almost at once. But I saw it.

"That," he said quietly, "is what I'm trying to find out."

My phone buzzed on the table. I glanced down.

Unknown number. The same one from this morning. But Caden was sitting right across from me with his phone still in his coat.

I looked up.

He was already looking at my phone. The expression on his face stopped my breath.

It wasn't a surprise. It was recognition.