His Pretty Little Pup

The scent of home hit her before the town came into view—pine sap, river wind, and the undercurrent of wolves. Real wolves. Not the disguised dominance of a classroom or the puffed-up growls of immature Alphas at the university. This was pack air. And Elara Grey breathed it in with a giddy smile as her boots crunched the gravel of the old road leading to her family’s modest cottage.

She hadn’t been home in six moons. Six whole moons since she last saw the forest she was born in. Or her parents. Or them—the Alpha and his Luna. Gods, especially him.

"Elara!" her mother, Maelin, called from the porch, apron dusted with flour. She wiped her hands hastily on her hip and pulled her daughter into a tight hug. "You’re early! We thought you’d miss the new moon feast."

Elara clung to her mother with one arm and dragged her heavy suitcase behind her with the other. "Caught an earlier caravan from the North Ridge checkpoint. Didn’t want to miss anything."

Maelin kissed her cheek before pulling back. "You look beautiful, baby. But you’re dusty and sweaty. Come wash up—actually, no, wait." She glanced back inside the house and then gave Elara a hopeful look. "Can you help me with something first? It’s urgent. I promised Luna Seraphine I’d deliver her potion set before sundown."

Elara’s pulse skipped. "The Alpha estate?"

Maelin chuckled. "Yes, darling. Unless they moved while you were gone."

Elara blinked, then a slow, sly smile spread across her face. The same flutter in her stomach she’d had since she was sixteen—the first time she saw Alpha Caelan sparring in nothing but training pants, muscles slick with sweat and focus sharp as a blade—stirred again. And the Luna? Seraphine was beautiful, yes, but Caelan... Caelan was dangerous.

"I’ll take it," Elara said too quickly. "Where is it? What is it?"

Maelin squinted at her. "You sound too eager. It’s just some cleansing salts and ritual herbs. Don’t sniff around their estate, okay? Be polite, drop it off, and leave."

Elara was already heading inside to her old room, dragging her suitcase behind her. "Sure, polite. Got it."

She dressed deliberately. Her softest black tank hugged her curves like silk, showing the arch of her waist and the generous curve of her breasts. She paired it with snug jeans that framed her hips and long legs. Her dark curls were tamed into a high ponytail that bounced with every step. She bit her lip in the mirror, spritzed the faintest vanilla-amber perfume on her neck, and smiled.

She wasn’t just going to drop off herbs. She was going to be seen.

The walk to the Alpha estate was familiar yet nerve-wracking. The grand iron gate creaked open for her as the guards recognized the Beta’s daughter. Her heart drummed in her ears as she stepped onto the stone path that led to the sprawling estate nestled in the woods.

A figure moved near the eastern side of the building—tall, broad, commanding.

"Dad?" she called.

Beta Thorne turned in surprise. "Elara? I didn’t know you were back today."

She shrugged and gave him a half-hug. "Surprise. I’m delivering for Mom."

Thorne nodded, still taking her in with an unreadable expression. "You’ve grown. Filled out. The pack will be buzzing about your return."

"Well, they can buzz all they want. I’m just here for the Alpha."

Thorne chuckled. "He’s inside. You can give it to one of the staff."

"Actually, how do I—"

She stopped talking. Everything inside her quieted.

Because he had arrived.

Alpha Caelan stepped out from the shaded archway of the training courtyard. Shirtless, dark training pants riding low on his hips, chest glistening with sweat. His silver-streaked hair was damp at the temples, and his storm-gray eyes locked onto Elara with an intensity that buckled her knees.

Elara forgot what she was saying. Forgot who she was. Forgot how to breathe.

Caelan’s lips curled slightly, as though amused. "Elara Grey," he said, voice deep, gravel and command. "Back from the Academy, I see."

Elara’s mouth hung open.

Thorne glanced between them, oblivious. "She’s here to drop off the Luna’s herbs. Maelin sent her."

"Of course," Caelan said, his gaze never leaving hers. "Come. You can place them in my study."

Elara nodded, still mute, still staring.

Thorne waved and turned to speak to one of the guards.

Elara’s pulse pounded. Her legs moved on their own, following Caelan up the stairs, through the arched doorway, and down a hallway that smelled like cedar, smoke, and something that was purely Alpha.

Caelan walked ahead of her, powerful and unhurried. The hallway narrowed as they reached his private study, a room of dark wood, towering shelves, and the scent of well-worn leather.

He pushed the door open and let her step inside first.

Elara barely held it together. "Where should I put it?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Just watched her, gaze tracing the length of her body like it was a battlefield he planned to conquer. "There. On the desk."

She moved to obey, placing the pouch of herbs down with shaking fingers. When she turned, he was closer.

Much closer.

"The Academy suited you," Caelan murmured.

Elara’s breath hitched. "I—I missed the pack. All of it. You."

Caelan’s brow lifted slightly. "Me?"

Her cheeks flamed. But she didn’t back down. "You don’t forget the man who redefines the word ‘Alpha’ when you’re still learning how to shift."

He said nothing, just tilted his head, eyes darkening.

"Do you know what you’re doing," he asked softly, "walking in here dressed like that?"

Elara’s heart slammed against her ribs. "Maybe."

Caelan’s eyes hooded, voice dropping an octave. "You think that’s wise?"

"I don’t want wise," she said, pulse hammering.

He circled her then, slow, deliberate, predatory. Like a wolf stalking prey that had dared to step too close to the den. "Your father has no idea where your eyes have been just now."

Elara barely breathed. "He doesn’t notice things like that."

"Good." Caelan stopped in front of her again, so close she could feel the heat rolling off him.

Silence stretched. The air between them grew thick with unspoken things.

Elara found her voice again, soft but sure. "If I were yours, I wouldn’t hide how I look at you."

Something primal flickered in his gaze. But he only smiled.

"That’s not a safe thing to say in an Alpha’s study."

Elara’s lips parted. "I don’t want safe."

He exhaled slowly. The tension crackled. But then, with a sharp pivot, he turned and moved toward the window, putting space between them again.

"You’ve delivered your message," he said without looking at her. "You should go. For now."

Elara backed toward the door, each step tugged by something deeper than curiosity.

She reached the threshold, heart pounding in her ears. She risked one last glance over her shoulder.

Alpha Caelan stood framed by the window’s light, muscle and power in perfect stillness.

Elara whispered, "Six moons wasn’t enough."

He didn’t turn, but his voice rumbled back. "Then perhaps you won’t wait another six."

And Elara left, legs trembling, blood rushing, every inch of her body lit with want.

She wasn’t sure if this was the beginning of a mistake, or the beginning of everything.

But she knew one thing with certainty:

She was going to fall to her knees for that man.

And maybe, just maybe, be told not to get up.