choices
763 Words
(Lira's POV)
The white wolf's tooth gleamed against the Blackfang border stones like a challenge written in bone.
I crouched in the predawn light, the frost-crusted grass crunching beneath my boots. My fingers hovered over the ancient symbol—a predator's molar placed precisely where the territory lines crossed the old hunting path. Every wolfchild knew what this meant.
Come find me.
If you dare.
Jarek shifted nervously behind me. "Alpha Cairn needs to know about this immediately."
I closed my fist around the tooth. It burned against my palm, still carrying the faint musk of him. "No."
"You can't possibly—"
"I said no." The growl ripped from my throat before I could stop it. Jarek stumbled back, eyes wide. I never lost control. Never.
But then, no rogue had ever marked me with a mating challenge before.
(Flashback: Three Nights Earlier)
The river water still clung to my skin as I stalked through the Blackfang barracks. Kael's scent wouldn't wash off—not completely. It lingered in my braid, under my nails, in the hollow of my throat where his breath had warmed my skin.
My warriors pretended not to notice. Smart of them.
I was sharpening my blades when the first cramp hit.
Fire lanced through my abdomen, so sudden my vision whited out. The whetstone clattered to the floor as I doubled over, gasping.
No. Not now.
But my body didn't care about timing. The fever came next—sweat beading along my hairline, muscles locking and unlocking like rusty gears.
First Heat since presenting as Alpha. And it wanted him.
(Kael's POV)
The forest smelled different when you were being hunted.
I crouched in the canopy of an ancient oak, watching the Blackfang patrol pass beneath me. Their torches painted the birch trunks in flickering orange, but none looked up. Wolves rarely do.
Ryn's voice whispered through the bond: "This is the stupidest thing you've ever done."
I grinned, adjusting the stolen cloak around my shoulders. The Blackfang insignia itched against my collarbone, but the disguise held. For now.
Below, Jarek argued with a grizzled warrior twice his size. "...found it near the river. She won't let us report it."
She.
My chest tightened. I didn't need to ask which "she" they meant.
(Lira's Heat)
The Blackfang healers would have locked me in the moon shrine with suppressants if they knew. Instead, I told them I was scouting the borders and vanished into the wilderness.
The cramps came faster now. I stripped naked beside a frozen creek, my breath pluming in the air as tremors wracked my body. Every inhale brought traces of him—pine and iron and that damned smokiness that made my teeth ache.
I shouldn't.
I did.
My fingers traced the scar on my thigh—the one Kael's teeth had left during our first fight. The memory of his body pinning mine sent fresh slickness between my thighs.
Pathetic.
I sank my fangs into my wrist to muffle the scream.
(The Hunt)
Kael found me at moonhigh.
I was kneeling in the snow, steam rising off my bare skin, when the crunch of footsteps froze my blood.
"You look good on your knees, princess."
Every muscle locked. He leaned against a birch tree, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he hadn't just trespassed into enemy territory during my weakest moment.
I snarled. "I'll rip your throat out."
"Promises, promises." He pushed off the tree, and I hated how my body reacted—n*****s pebbling, thighs pressing together. His nostrils flared. "Oh, little Alpha. You're drowning in it."
(The Choice)
He stopped an arm's length away. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kill.
I could see every gold fleck in his eyes, every scar earned in battles I hadn't witnessed. The white tooth around his neck—a match to the one he'd left at my border—gleamed against his tanned skin.
"Say the word," he murmured, "and I walk away."
My claws were at his throat before I'd decided to move. His pulse jumped against my fingertips.
We both knew I wouldn't kill him.
We both knew what came next.
I woke alone.
The clearing smelled of s*x and snow and us. My body ached in the best way, Kael's bite marks purpling along my collarbones.
A single white feather lay where his head had rested.
Old wolf tradition. I'll be back.
I pressed it to my lips, then tucked it into my battle harness where no one would see.
Let him come.
This time, I'd be ready
- Writer
