The First Run

Violet:

Dawn came sharply, burning through the trees in periwinkle blues. The air outside the packhouse tasted like frost and pine sap, crisp enough to bite the lungs. Lycans gathered in loose formation across the clearing, their boots grinding against gravel, their low murmurs weaving through the morning like distant thunder. They were restless, and I stood at the edge of them all, exactly where I chose to be.

Alec stepped forward just as the sun broke the treeline. The light caught in his dark hair and traced the hard lines of his shoulders, carving him from shadow into something almost mythic. Silence fell immediately.

“Neal has crossed into our territory twice,” Alec’s voice carried easily, steady, and commanding. 

“He believes distance will protect him. He believes shadows will hide him.” A ripple of low growls answered him.

“He’s wrong.” Those words cracked like a whip.

Power rolled off him, wild, restless, and controlled. His Alpha dominance pressed outward in waves, brushing against every mind present, including mine. I felt his mind the moment it expanded to us, layered and dense. Built from authority and long practice. If mine was woven steel and moonlight, his was stone and fire.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he had any idea what it felt like from the outside. Then suddenly, I wanted to know what it felt like from the inside.

The thought was reckless. But I did it anyway, I couldn’t stop myself. While he spoke of tracking formations and scent lines, I reached. The pack link opened for me differently than it did for the others. I didn’t push through the general current. I slipped beneath it, finding the deeper channel—the one that fed directly into him, straight to the Alpha’s core, and I touched it. Alec inhaled mid-sentence, just a hitch. It was just enough that the lycans closest to him stiffened.

His eyes closed.

Only for a second.

But I felt it.

His mind was vast, structured, and ordered in layers of discipline and instinct. His shield rose immediately at my presence, but I didn’t attack it. I let my fingers brush across it instead.

Slow.

Curious.

The texture was different than mine. It was like heat beneath granite, buzzing with power that was coiled and watchful. When I traced along the edge of it, I felt his restraint tighten like a drawn bowstring.

“Violet,” his voice cut through the link, lower now, stripped of the public edge he wore for the pack. I smiled faintly where I stood, as he continued speaking aloud without missing a word, issuing commands about perimeter sweeps and flanking routes. No one but me would know that the Alpha’s pulse had just spiked.

I let my touch drift again, stroking along the inner seam of his shield where authority met instinct. He exhaled through his nose.

Through the link, his control brushed mine—firm, warning, but not forcing me out.

“Careful,” he murmured privately.

“You told me to lower my shields,” I replied, my mental voice softer than silk sliding over skin. “You didn’t say I couldn’t test yours.”

His shield flared—not to repel me, but in reaction. The sensation rolled through me like standing too close to a wildfire and realizing you enjoyed the warmth from it.

“If you keep touching me like that while I’m addressing my pack,” he said into my mind, “I will end this speech early… and I won’t be nearly as composed when I find you afterward,”

The air left my lungs. Outwardly, he remained carved from stone. Calm. Commanding. Untouchable.

But beneath that?

He was burning hot.

Controlled. Focused. A predator that was allowing me just close enough to feel his teeth. I pressed once more—firmer this time, palm flat against the center of his shield. His power surged in answer, not crushing me, not ejecting me, but enclosing my touch in something hot and possessive.

A warning.

And a promise.

“Move out,” he ordered aloud. The lycans dispersed instantly, boots pounding into the forest.

His eyes opened, and then they found me across the clearing. Through the link, his voice dropped to a whisper meant only for me.

“Next time you enter my mind uninvited, Violet…” A pause came as his shield tightened around my touch just slightly before releasing it. “Be prepared for me to lock the door behind you,” My pulse thundered.

I withdrew slowly, letting my presence slide from his shield like fingertips trailing down heated skin, and took off running behind the others.

The forest swallowed us within minutes.

Branches clawed at jackets and hair as the pack moved in swift, fluid lines between the trees. One by one, bodies blurred and shifted—bones cracking, muscle tearing and reforming, fur rippling into place. The sound of it was violent and beautiful all at once.

I stayed human.

I always stayed human.

Boots hit earth hard as I ran to keep pace, lungs burning as the terrain turned uneven. Roots jutted like traps. Rocks shifted underfoot. Lycans were built for this. Their strides devoured ground effortlessly.

Mine did not.

I didn’t fall behind—but I felt the strain.

Alec noticed.

Of course he did.

His lycan was massive—larger than the rest, darker, silver threaded through black like moonlight caught in smoke. He ran ahead at first, commanding the formation without words. Then he slowed.

Turned.

Golden eyes locked on me.

I bared my teeth slightly. “Don’t.”

He ignored that entirely.

The pack pressed forward, giving their Alpha space without question. He shifted direction and fell into step beside me, his massive shoulder nearly level with my chest even on all fours. The ground trembled faintly beneath his weight.

I kept running.

Stubborn.

Breath burning now.

His mind brushed mine through the link, steady and unhurried. “You’re wasting energy.”

“I’m keeping up,” I shot back.

A rumble vibrated from his chest—half growl, half something else. Amusement, maybe.

“For now.” The terrain dipped sharply ahead, sloping downward into rocky decline. The others took it in long, effortless leaps.

I calculated the descent, and he stepped in front of me. He didn’t knock me over or force me back. He simply blocked my path with eight hundred pounds of immovable Alpha.

I glared up at him. “Move.” 

My jaw clenched. “I don’t need help.”

He stepped closer, making heat roll off him in waves.

“This isn’t helping,” he said. “It’s my job as an alpha to care for my pack, to offer myself, to be there.” The words wrapped around my spine and pulled. He lowered himself slowly, deliberately. An invitation that made my throat drier.

“I am not riding you.” A low rumble vibrated through his chest, and I felt it between my ribs.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmured in my mind. “And I don’t intend to slow the pack because you’re too proud to touch me.”

Touch him? Like that hadn’t been the problem all morning. It was all I could think about.

I stepped forward to prove a point, my fingers sank into the thick fur at his shoulder.

He froze.

Not tense.

Not aggressive.

Just… aware of me. His power surged under my palm—hotter than when I touched his shields. His power was alive, responsive, making my pulse kick hard.

“This is temporary,” I said, though it came out softer than I meant.

“Everything with you feels temporary,” he replied.

That did something to me. Still, I swung onto his back before I could reconsider, gripping his fur for balance. The moment my thighs settled along his sides, he inhaled sharply.

Through the link, I felt it—the spike in him. 

My chest pressed forward as he rose to full height beneath me, and the sheer size of him hit all at once. Heat radiated up through my legs. Strength coiled under every inch of my body.

“Don’t you dare throw me,” I warned.

His answer came slowly.

“Hold on.” Then he ran. Not the steady lope from before. Faster.

The world shattered into motion. Wind tore through my hair. My body jolted with each powerful stride, forcing me to lean down, closer—my fingers threading deeper into his fur, my thighs tightening instinctively to stay anchored.

A growl rolled through him.

“Careful,” he said, his voice rough through the link.

“Why?” I breathed, pulse hammering.

“Because every time you tighten your legs like that,” he replied, controlled but strained, “you’re testing how disciplined I am.” Heat shot straight through me.

The bond between us flared—thin, electric, volatile. I felt his restraint like a live wire under my skin. He wasn’t slowing. If anything, he pushed harder, muscles flexing powerfully beneath me as if proving a point.

My fingers drifted forward, brushing the thick fur at the base of his neck. He made a sound somewhere between half growl, half something dangerously close to a groan.

“Violet.” It was a warning, a plea.

I leaned closer without meaning to, breath skimming through the fur at his ear. “You told me to hold on.” His entire body tightened. 

The pack reached the ridge and began to fan out, but he didn’t slow immediately. He carried me a few strides farther into the trees before finally coming to a stop.

Silence fell between us as his heat seeped into my bones. I could feel his heart pounding beneath the thick cage of muscle. 

When I finally slid down, my body dragged slowly along his side before my boots touched the ground. My hands lingered in his fur one breath too long.

He shifted back into human form in one smooth, deliberate motion, and just as quickly, he was close, too close, all bare skin and heat. Then through the link, his voice dropped to something dark and intimate.

“If you press against me like that again while I’m running…” His gaze lowered briefly to where my hands were and then back to my eyes.

“I won’t be responsible for how far I take you before I stop.” My pulse stuttered. I stepped back first. Only because I had to.

“Good thing I don’t scare easily,” I said, steady despite the heat under my skin.

His mouth curved slowly, with such predatory grace. “I’m not trying to scare you,” he replied. The weight of his gaze dropped lower this time.

“I’m trying to see how much you can handle.” And for the first time since this hunt began, I wasn’t thinking about Neal. I was thinking about a completely different Alpha…