Chapter Seven
650 Words
The guest room was too quiet.
Karma lay awake beneath heavy blankets that smelled faintly of pine and something darker—wolf, she thought distantly. The bed was massive, carved wood polished smooth by time, the linens black edged with silver thread. Even here, even tucked away in the east wing like an afterthought, the Alpha’s colors surrounded her.
Black.
Red.
Silver.
They pressed in on her senses until the low, dull ache behind her eyes returned, a steady reminder that she didn’t belong.
She stared at the ceiling beams, tracing the grain of the wood, listening to the packhouse breathe. Footsteps echoed occasionally from distant halls. A door closed. Soft laughter. The low murmur of voices layered with heartbeats she could hear far too clearly.
She turned onto her side, jaw tightening.
I know what I am.
She’d always known.
The knowledge had never frightened her. What frightened her was the absence — the silence where her wolf should have been. Other wolves talked about instinct, about heat under the skin, about hunger and fury and joy all tangled together.
She had none of that.
Just control. And fear. And the memory of blood on stone floors she’d never allowed herself to revisit fully.
Trauma could cage even a wolf.
Her fingers curled into the blanket as the ache in her head pulsed once, sharper, then faded. She sat up slowly, padding toward the window, bare feet silent against the polished wood.
Outside, the pack gathered.
Dozens of them emerged from the forest edge and the lower terraces surrounding the house, bodies moving with easy familiarity. Laughter faded as focus sharpened. Clothes were shed without shame, folded neatly or abandoned entirely.
Her breath caught.
She’d seen wolves shift before. As a child. From hiding.
Never this close.
Never this many.
Never him.
Xavier stepped into the clearing last.
Even at a distance, he dominated the space.
As a man, he was already imposing — tall and broad-shouldered, muscle earned rather than sculpted, movements controlled and deliberate. Black hair fell just long enough to brush his collar, eyes a sharp, vivid green that missed nothing. There was no wasted motion in him, no softness where there shouldn’t be. Power lived under his skin, quiet but unmistakable.
The pack stilled when he stopped.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
Karma leaned closer to the glass as he rolled his shoulders once, spine straightening, breath steady. The shift began subtly — bones re-aligning with a sound like distant thunder, muscle rippling beneath skin. His height compressed, then surged again as fur erupted in a wave of midnight black.
Her pulse thundered.
Where the others became wolves — strong, sleek, varied in color — Xavier became something else entirely.
His wolf was massive.
Larger than any of the others by far, shoulders rolling with controlled power, fur black as ink under moonlight. His eyes remained green, burning bright and intelligent, locking briefly on the pack before lifting—
—and finding her.
Karma froze.
The connection lasted only a second.
But it felt like being seen.
Not claimed.
Not hunted.
Acknowledged.
His wolf lowered its head slightly, then turned away, issuing a low sound that vibrated through the clearing. The pack responded instantly, bodies shifting into motion, a wave of muscle and fur flowing toward the tree line.
They ran.
Fast. Silent. United.
Karma watched until the forest swallowed them whole, chest tight with something she refused to name. The ache behind her eyes pulsed once more, deeper now — not pain, but pressure. Awareness.
Longing.
Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened glass. Silver hair falling loose around her shoulders. Icy blue eyes too sharp, too awake.
“I won’t run,” she whispered.
Not yet.
But somewhere deep inside, something stirred — not a wolf, not fully — just enough to remind her it was still there.
Waiting.
- Writer
