The lone Alpha in the cabin

Her grumpy mate

I folded my arms, but it only made my protest seem more dramatic, especially when his ridiculously oversized sweater slipped down over my hands. I’d tried rolling up the sleeves, but that didn’t help. Looking down, I saw the sweater hung to my knees, and the pants were rolled so many times they looked like gray clouds gathered at my feet. He tried not to laugh, his wolf side clearly pushing through until it finally won.

“Sorry about this one, he’s not properly trained,” I said. “I’m Kaax, and this dope is John—well, Jonathan right now, since he’s being such a dumbass.” He chuckled, pointing out how tiny I was compared to them, which earned another laugh before he gestured for me to sit at the island. I grumbled but moved to sit across from him. Behind him, an old wood-burning stove warmed the space, and I heard the coffee pot sputter to life.

“Milk and two scoops of sugar, please,” I said, smiling as I held up two fingers. He returned the smile and turned to prepare my coffee.

“Kaax?” I tilted my head, my long brown hair falling forward like a curtain until I tucked it behind my ear to look at him.

“John,” he replied, his voice lower than before, hesitant and almost shy.

"John, I’m Atziri, and my wolf’s name is Itza. We come from northern Mexico, and it’s wonderful to meet you. I’m 28—almost 29 in a few months—and part of the Moonshine Pack. I didn’t realize there were others around here. We settled in about a year ago, but haven’t ventured far. Is there more of your pack nearby" He shakes his head at my question.

“Nice to meet you too, Atziri. I’m 34. I don’t belong to any pack.”

“You’re a rogue?”

“I prefer ‘lone wolf,’” he chuckles. I nod as he sets a cup in front of me, taking his seat. I sip, my eyes fixed on him, studying every movement. His stiffness makes me want to laugh, but I hold it in, continuing to watch.

He looks down into his cup, seeming unused to company, and I can’t help but think how endearing he is—like a large, shy teddy bear. Itza agrees.

“I’m a writer.”

"I used to be a business owner, but now I just tend to my land."

"Aye, made it out with a well-stuffed wallet," I cut him off and I let out a small laugh to go with the joke. His eyes shot up to meet mine, studying me so intensely that I flushed bright red. I started fussing with my hair and clothes, trying to smooth my brown hair out of my face, but it wouldn’t cooperate. I hadn’t even looked in a mirror—there could’ve been dirt on my face for all I knew.

“You’re fine, there’s nothing on your face,” he muttered, his gaze still fixed on me with an intensity that made me squirm.

“Is there a reason you’re looking at me like that?” I asked.

He grunted. “Like what?”

Like you want to devour me, I thought, but instead I said, “As if you want to know everything about me.” I grinned, resting my chin in the palm of my hand. He blinked, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. His eyes darkened to a deep grey, and I knew Kaax was in control now.

“It’s only natural to want to learn everything about my mate,” he said with a low grin, his eyes raking over me—"everything." His voice dropped even lower, and heat pooled in my core at his tone. His nose twitched as if catching a scent in the air. My cheeks burned, and I crossed my legs.

'He called me his mate—he felt it too. He was ours, and we didn’t need to hide our desires. He could fulfill them with that large, solid body.' Itza growled inside me, making the heat radiate even more from my skin. She was right—he was a broad man, his shoulders spanning more than half the table as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the surface. His gaze was full of desire, knowing Itza wasn’t even trying to help—in fact, I knew she was working against me. He sniffed the air again, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat.

"I can smell your need, mi flor, tu aroma es fuerte y dulce," Kaax said directly to Itza, while I fought with her for control. Thankfully, John managed to rein Kaax in.

"I’m so sorry," John grunted, his voice still laced with need.

"Itza isn’t any better," I muttered. I shifted in my seat, releasing more of my scent and immediately reprimanded myself. "Sorry," I groaned, though it came out more like a moan.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, standing, his bulge visible beneath his sweatpants—I hadn’t even realized he was no longer just in his underwear. Slightly disappointed, I shook my head.

"I haven't had much since I fell from the cliff," I murmured, running my hands through my hair as I looked away. I heard the scrape of a chair against the floor, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of me, shifting my chair so I was now facing the living room.

"Cliff? What cliff? Where are you hurt?" he asked, fussing over me as he pulled off my sweater to check my arms. There were small scratches, and his eyes seemed pained. Quickly, he began rolling up my pant legs, revealing deeper scrapes with dried blood. I tried to pull away, tugging them back down, unprepared for anyone to see beneath my clothes—I felt unkempt.

"I'm fine, really, just a few scratches," I started, but his large hands held me firmly, studying each injury. The heat of his touch was overwhelming, yet I didn’t want him to let go. I wanted his hands to wander higher. I gasped, eyes flying open, realizing I’d closed them without noticing. His hands reached the hem of my shirt and lifted it, exposing a few more bruises on my belly. They weren’t from the fall.