by L. L. Raand
“That’s enough,” Trent snapped, stepping in between them, planting a hand against each of their chests and shoving them back a step or two. The Timberwolf soldier grumbled but offered no challenge. The Snowcrest sentry bared her teeth, fangs already emerging.
“You don’t want to do that,” Trent said quietly.
“What makes you think I don’t,” she snarled back, meeting Trent’s gaze in open challenge.
Trent sighed. All right, then.
“Make a space,” she said to the surrounding trainees, who were all watching now. Everyone moved back to form a loose ring around them, Snowcrest in one half of the semicircle and Timberwolves in the other. Trent looked over at Ash, who nodded.
“Hand-to-hand,” Trent said, “and keep your wolf leashed.”
The blonde, with heavily muscled shoulders and long, lean thighs, curled her lip. “I don’t need pelt to handle you.”
Trent grinned, spread her arms. “I’m right here. Cadet.”
The term, usually applied to adolescents in training, brought sneers and hoots from the Timberwolves.
The blonde charged, feinting with a punch and sweeping with her rear leg. If she connected with Trent’s knee, she’d dislocate it.
But Trent expected the move, having seen it just a few seconds before. Lesson one—don’t give the enemy a preview of your offense. She stepped in close to avoid the leg sweep, blocked the punch with a forearm, and hammered a fist into the blonde’s inner thigh. As the blonde buckled from that blow, Trent caught her under the chin with an open-palm, upward thrust that snapped her head back. Her body followed, and the blonde landed on her back in the dirt with a whoosh of air exploding from her chest.
If this had been a demonstration of technique, that move alone would’ve been enough, but this confrontation was more than that. It was a test. One of the trainees had challenged Trent’s authority, and that required more than a simple demonstration.
She leapt across the distance between them and grasped the blonde’s arm as the Were vaulted upward. Pivoting behind her, Trent thrust a knee into the center of her back and took her facedown again, straddling her from behind. She let her wolf rise just enough so her pheromones danced in a heavy cloud that those crowding closer would scent. She wasn’t interested in dominating this particular wolf, not sexually at least, but she wanted to send a clear signal to everyone around her that her power was more than enough to dominate any of them.
Still holding the Snowcrest’s arm jammed up between her shoulder blades to immobilize her, Trent squeezed her thighs on either side of the blonde’s hips, a taunting dominance move, and leaned down until her mouth was close to her ear. The blonde shivered, her wolf already close to submitting. If the Snowcrest Were turned belly-up and offered her throat, if she spent her essence in total submission to an out-Pack Were, she would lose status with the other Snowcrest Weres. She might lose her place in the Pack hierarchy. She would surely become an enemy.
“You’re a good fighter,” Trent whispered, her breath in the blonde’s hair, “but you could be better. I can show you what you can be.”
“I submit,” the blonde whispered.
“I don’t want you to. I want you to fight, just not with me. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The blonde’s face glistened, her pheromones pulsing below her sex-drenched skin, her trembling body on the verge of exploding in physical and sexual submission.
“Then we’re done.” Trent bounced to her feet and backed away.
The blonde lay with her eyes closed for a few seconds, her chest heaving, before she pushed herself to her knees, stood, and turned to face Trent. She kept her eyes just below Trent’s gaze. Waiting.
“As you were, Sentry,” Trent said, turning her back to the blonde.
The circle of onlookers slowly dissolved. The trainees moved back into position and resumed their practice exercises. The blonde shook herself, took one step in Trent’s direction, and halted abruptly.
Zora Constantine stepped up beside Trent.
“Alpha,” the blonde said, dropping her eyes.
“Freya,” Zora said sharply to the blonde. “Don’t you have training to complete?”
“Yes, Alpha,” Freya said and turned away.
“That was quite a demonstration,” Zora murmured, not looking at Trent.
Trent folded her arms and surveyed the trainees, forcing herself not to look at Zora. Her stomach cramped with the effort of ignoring her scent. “Your wolves are proud. Understandably. But discipline is as important to effective defense as the desire to fight.”
“Desire,” the Alpha said, still standing, hands on hips, watching the pairs of fighters working through their exercises. “Is that what you were trying to teach her?”
Trent smiled at the irritation in the Alpha’s voice. She remembered the run of just a few hours before and the sensation of unbridled freedom she’d experienced. A wild, exhilarating rush that was different even from when she’d run with Alpha Mir. She remembered how the touch of her shoulder against Zora’s, the scent of her wolf, and the power of her call had sent hunger pouring through her. She’d known desire, but nothing had devoured her like that. The blonde beneath her just now had stirred nothing, not even the primal urge to tangle.
“I was making an example of your Were,” Trent said, “not sending an invitation.”
Zora’s head snapped around and she snarled, “Weren’t you?”
Trent risked a direct gaze, one insolent and worthy of discipline. Zora’s eyes were ringed in gold, her cheekbones sharp, a glint of fangs showing. Her wolf danced in her eyes. Trent caught her breath, her wolf instantly alert, her sex quickening as her clitoris hardened. Her skin burst with sex-sheen, and she trembled. “That was not an invitation.”
Zora’s nostrils flared and her jaw grew heavier. “Then be careful what you broadcast to my Weres. I could feel your call across the Compound.”
“It was not an invitation to her.” Trent’s chest heaved, a thin line of pelt erupting down the center of her abdomen. Zora’s fury stirred her wolf’s need to meet her, body to body, passion for passion.
“But someone will answer.” Zora’s words ground out on a growl.
“Someone?” Trent dared. Quivering, she raised her chin to show her throat. If Zora took her now, right here on the earth in the center of Snowcrest land, she would welcome it. She was ready, urgent to spend.
Zora snarled again, pivoted, and vaulted away, leaving Trent trembling for the second time that day.
* * *
The Adirondack Parkland, Timberwolf territory
Central NY State
First light
Sylvan burst from the underbrush, Drake running at her shoulder. Their two young, Kira and Kendra, raced after them. The prey shot ahead, darting off into the thick cover between the tall pines. Given a chance, the hare would go to ground, but even if it escaped, there was a lesson for the pups to learn. Today, Sylvan wanted to teach them the order of the hunt, the way to follow her as she stalked and flushed the prey, to hold their place until she signaled them to the flanks or the lead. Hunting, like life, was not a solitary pursuit.
They were Pack, always. Every Were lived, hunted, fought, and died as Pack.
Drake, her mate and the true source of all her power, easily kept pace, her breath flowing even and strong, her heart beating in time with Sylvan’s. Sylvan was Alpha, destined to lead, to be the strongest and the surest, even when sometimes she was not. Drake’s power matched hers, but her strength lay not just in muscle and bone, but in her willingness to give to Sylvan what she needed most—unbending, undying loyalty, trust, and love. Sylvan and Drake ruled the Pack by virtue of being the most dominant and the strongest, but they claimed the Pack’s loyalty because they would die for any Timberwolf. This willingness to sacrifice for Pack was what her young needed to learn. To do that, they first needed to learn to be part of the Pack. The time would come when they would need to stand apart in order to lead,
but not as long as she lived and ruled.
Sylvan slowed and Drake, so connected to her by heart and body, slowed with her.
Sylvan signaled her pup. Kira, go!
Kira, her silver pelt tinged with black on her ears and ruff, streaked past, pursuing the hare’s scent deep into the forest, unmindful of obstacles in her path. She leapt with all the strength of youth, and the joy and vigor of invincibility. Sylvan chuckled, giving her exuberant young a chance to command. Over her left shoulder, she could feel Kendra’s power building, recognizing it for what it was. Kendra was the alpha pup, and one day, she would lead. But for now, she must learn patience while others found their place in the Pack order.
The prey was clever and quick, and Sylvan sensed when it dove into its burrow, having escaped to live and run another day.
Kira circled the fallen tree and danced about the entrance to the hare’s refuge, her nose to the ground, panting with enthusiasm.
Kendra, go, Sylvan commanded.
Kendra shot forward, arrowing directly to the opening of the burrow, nudging her sister aside with a rough shove to the shoulder. Annoyed to be pushed aside, Kira nipped at her, and Kendra nipped back. Within seconds, the twins had forgotten their elusive prey and were tumbling together on the ground in a cacophony of snarls and yips. Drake slowed and swung her head toward Sylvan, her expressive dark eyes filled with pride and wolfie amusement.
Sylvan settled on the ground to watch the pups with a huff. So much for training.
Drake dropped beside her, rested her muzzle on Sylvan’s forelegs, and licked the corner of Sylvan’s mouth. Sylvan lifted her head, letting Drake place her teeth gently around her throat—a position she would allow no other. Her vulnerability signaled both her trust and her devotion.
They did quite well, Drake signaled. For a minute or so.
Sylvan grumbled. They have the concentration of ants.
Kira caught the scent, Drake noted reasonably, and Kendra showed remarkable control when you held her back. Patience, my love. They’re young.
You’re too easy on them. Sylvan grumbled some more, but she didn’t disagree. The pups were young and strong and full of themselves. Exactly as she would wish them to be. Her pride, though, would not keep them safe, or teach them to safeguard others. Only her example would do that.
Sylvan rose and called the twins with a sharp bark.
Drake bumped her shoulder as they headed back to the Compound. You forget what it was like to be their age.
Sylvan chuffed. I remember being eager and full of myself and too quick to show my teeth.
Not much has changed, I see. Drake jostled her shoulder again as they ran. I suspect there was a bit more fueling your arrogance as well, but then—you were younger and in your prime.
Sylvan snarled. Is that a challenge?
What do you think? Drake showed her teeth and sprinted ahead. A second later, Drake disappeared off trail into the forest, but Sylvan wasn’t worried. She could track her mate anywhere, no matter the distance between them.
With a sharp yip, Sylvan summoned the centuri who’d been shadowing them since they left the Compound. Jonathan and Dasha loped out of the forest and fell in on either side of her and the young.
Take the pups back to the Compound to join the other juveniles.
Yes, Alpha, Jonathan replied and herded the two jostling young wolves onto the path leading to the main Timberwolf encampment.
Sylvan howled in answer to Drake’s challenge and raced off in the direction her mate had taken. She caught Drake’s scent, bounded off the trail, and cut through the dense forest. She knew where Drake was going. Her mate had a few seconds’ head start, but Sylvan was a little larger and just a little bit faster, and she was first to reach the clearing surrounding their den, a single-story cabin a quarter mile of dense forest away from the Compound and several hundred other Weres. She sensed Drake a few seconds behind her, could feel her energy and scent her unique signature. Drake broadcast pheromones and sex, and Sylvan’s clitoris filled in anticipation. The glands buried deep on either side of her sex pulsed with the hormones stimulated by Drake’s call, and heat lightning flashed through her blood. She needed to take her mate, to couple and claim and empty for her. Because of her, and only her.
Panting, her body streaming with sex-sheen, Sylvan shed pelt and bounded naked up onto the broad plank porch just as Drake burst from the forest twenty yards away. The air around Drake shimmered as she shed pelt and leapt up beside Sylvan, wolf-gold still rimming her eyes.
“You cheated,” Drake snarled, raking her canines down Sylvan’s neck, leaving thin lines of burning need.
Sylvan caught Drake around the waist and dragged her close, her wolf still driving her instincts, the need to claim her mate thrumming through her blood and beating in the pulse between her thighs. She nipped at the soft skin at the base of Drake’s throat, quick sharp bites in time with the blood beating beneath the silken surface.
Drake growled and plunged her hands into Sylvan’s hair, the blunt tips of her fingers still lightly clawed.
The sharp pinpricks of pain incited a low rumble of pleasure in Sylvan’s chest. She closed her jaws over the sensitive mark on Drake’s shoulder, the spot she’d bitten to trigger the mate bond. She bore a similar mark on her chest that locked her body, mind, and spirit to Drake.
Drake shivered as Sylvan’s slow bite sent showers of erotostimulants flooding her system. “You abandoned the chase.”
“Oh no. You thought to leave me behind,” Sylvan murmured, sweeping one hand over Drake’s chest along the sensitive inner surface of her breast and down her abdomen to the delta between her thighs. She pushed her hand between Drake’s legs and cupped her. The rumble in her chest became a growl as the heat of Drake’s sex and the prominence of her clitoris filled her palm.
Drake nipped at her ear and kissed her. “I would never leave you, but I know how much you enjoy the chase.”
“Well, I’ve caught you now.” Sylvan circled Drake’s waist and dragged her backward, nudging the door open with her shoulder. Once inside the main room, she pulled through another door into their bedroom. With a twist of her hips, she flipped Drake down onto the bed, climbed above her, and straddled her with one leg between Drake’s thighs.
Laughing, Drake clasped Sylvan’s thighs and pulled her upward until Sylvan’s sex was above her mouth. “Caught me, have you?”
Sylvan shouted as Drake claimed her with her mouth. Sylvan’s mind blurred as need speared through her, and her muscles clenched. Drake’s mouth was hot, her tongue a swirl of teasing ecstasy around Sylvan’s clitoris and a maddening pressure on the full-to-bursting mate glands on either side. Sylvan braced an arm against the wall, steadying herself to look down and watch Drake dominate her. She thrust her hips, pushing her distended clitoris deeper into the slick inferno, her stomach rigid as Drake’s lips slid up and down her length. Burning pressure pounded in her sex and fire skirted down the inside of her thighs.
“Drake,” she whispered urgently. She needed just a little more, harder and faster. She needed Drake to take everything she had. A whimper, nearly a whine, escaped her, and her claws erupted, gouging the timbered wall. The red haze of sex frenzy buried her in a wild storm of raging desperation. “Now.”
Her broken growl erupted into a roaring plea.
Drake reached up, dragged her short, blunt claws down the center of Sylvan’s abdomen, and Sylvan released so suddenly the explosion snapped her head back and bowed her spine. Hips pumping wildly, she emptied, surrendering every drop of her being into her mate’s demanding mouth. Finally finished, she dragged herself free of Drake’s grip and pushed her way down the bed and wedged her hips between Drake’s thighs. Pressing her still distended clitoris to Drake’s cleft, she took her mouth in a hard, probing kiss. Drake’s legs came around her and completed their joining.
“Mine,” Drake gasped, gripping Sylvan’s shoulders and urging her deeper.
“Yes.” Panting, Sylvan unleashed her
primal imperative to claim her mate, to take her, to own and be owned by her. She thrust, the aching pressure building again. Drake closed around her, hot and warm and ready, as full as she was. They released together, their victus blending, their unique hormonal signatures joining, creating the singular union that only mated pairs achieved.
Sylvan collapsed, drained, her face buried in Drake’s neck. “I love you.”
Drake stroked her back, holding her protectively, her embrace fierce and unyielding. “You’re mine, Alpha.”
“Always,” Sylvan muttered. “You mean everything.”
Drake kissed her. “That’s because I want all of you.”
“You have me.”
“And you have me.”
“You took me hard.” Sylvan pushed herself up onto an elbow, studying Drake intently. “I didn’t sense you were breeding.”
Drake smiled. “I’m not. You know it’s unpredictable for us. It may not happen again.”
Sylvan kissed her. “We have two strong young. One is destined to be the next Alpha. If we have no more, we have Pack.”
“Will you be disappointed?”
Sylvan barked a laugh. “How could I be? I have more now than I ever dreamed. I have you, I have our young. I have everything.”
“Having young does change everything,” Drake said quietly. “The Pack is ours to protect, but now I feel it even more than I ever did. The young are our future, not just yours and mine, but the Pack’s. They are the lifeblood, and we can’t let anything threaten them.”
