1: The Encounter

The air in the pack council chamber is thick with the scent of old parchment and aggression.

Alaric Sterling sits at the head of the long stone table. He is the Alpha of the Iron-Wood Pack, but right now, he feels more like a prisoner. His fingers drum a steady, restless beat against the wood. Every thud of his pulse feels like a ticking clock.

"The bloodlines are thinning, Alaric," Elder Vance says. His voice sounds like stones grinding together. "A pack without a Luna is a pack without a future. You are twenty-five. The moon has been patient, but the pack is not."

Alaric doesn't look up. He knows what they want. They want him to pick Vesper. She is a high-ranking female, a fierce warrior, and she has the "right" pedigree. But every time Alaric looks at her, he feels nothing. No spark. No heat. Just a cold, tactical obligation.

"I will not choose a mate just to satisfy a council of old men," Alaric says. His voice is a low, dangerous velvet. It’s the kind of voice that makes lesser wolves lower their heads.

"Then the Moon Goddess will choose for you," Vance counters. "And she is rarely kind to those who stall. If you do not find a Luna by the next full moon, we will be forced to vote on your leadership."

Alaric stands abruptly. His chair screeches against the floor like a scream. He doesn't say a word as he turns and walks out of the chamber. He needs air. He needs to run.

He leaves the stone pack house and hits the treeline at a full sprint. He doesn't wait to reach the deep woods. Mid-stride, his body twists and cracks. His clothes tear as his bones shift and grow. In seconds, a massive, midnight-black wolf with amber eyes is tearing through the underbrush.

This is the only time Alaric feels free. The wind in his fur, the dirt beneath his paws, and the silence of the trees.

He runs for miles, pushing himself until his lungs burn. He heads toward the "Grey Zone"—the thin strip of land that separates the Iron-Wood from the human outskirts. The pack knows never to go there. Humans are boring, loud, and smells like exhaust and processed food.

But today, the wind changes.

Alaric stops so fast his claws dig deep furrows into the damp earth. He tilts his head, his ears twitching.

The scent hits him like a physical blow. It isn't exhaust or grease. It is wild lilies, rain-washed stone, and something warm and sweet—like honey stirred into tea. It is the cleanest thing he has ever smelled.

Mine. 

The thought isn't his own. It comes from the beast. The wolf inside him, usually so calm and stoic, begins to howl with a sudden, frantic need.

Alaric follows the scent. He moves like a shadow, silent and invisible. He reaches a clearing near an old, ivy-covered greenhouse. The glass is cracked in places, and the garden around it is a wild, beautiful mess of herbs and flowers.

And then, he sees her.

She is small compared to a wolf. She wears a pair of faded denim overalls and a t-shirt with a faded sun on it. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and there’s a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

This is Juniper.

She is humming a soft tune, moving between rows of green plants. She has no idea that a predator is watching her. She has no idea that the most powerful man in the territory is hiding ten feet away in the bushes.

Alaric watches her hands. They are steady and gentle as she prunes a leaf. He finds himself mesmerized by the pulse in her neck. He can hear her heart. It beats fast and light, like a bird’s wings. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

He should leave. A human mate is a death sentence for an Alpha’s reputation. The council would lose their minds. Vesper would try to kill her.

But the bond is a tether. It pulls at his soul, dragging him toward her. He can’t breathe without getting closer to that scent.

Before he can stop himself, Alaric steps out from the shadows.

Juniper freezes. She is reaching for a watering can when she sees the movement. She turns slowly. Her amber eyes—the exact same color as his—go wide.

She doesn't scream. She doesn't run. She just stares at the massive, black wolf standing in her garden.

"Oh," she whispers. Her voice is like silk against his skin. "You’re... you’re huge."

Alaric stays perfectly still. He is a killing machine, a beast of legend, but under her gaze, he feels like a pup.

Juniper takes a shaky step forward. She holds out her hand, palm up. It’s a gesture of peace.

"Are you lost, big guy?" she asks softly. "Did you come from the deep woods?"

She is so close now. Alaric can smell the excitement and the slight tang of fear coming off her. He should growl to scare her away. He should protect her from himself.

Instead, he leans his heavy head forward. He closes the gap.

When his wet nose touches her warm palm, a literal spark of electricity jumps between them. Alaric flinches, but he doesn't pull away. The bond snaps into place, locking their souls together with a force that makes his vision blur.

Juniper gasps. She reaches out her other hand and buries her fingers in the thick fur between his eyes. She strokes him gently, her touch sending waves of heat through his body.

"I feel like I know you," she breathes, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Is that crazy? I'm sorry... do I know you?"

Alaric looks deep into her eyes. He wishes he could speak. He wishes he could tell her that she is his entire world now.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoes from the forest—the sound of a breaking branch. Alaric’s ears snap back. He smells it instantly. Another wolf. A scout.

He can't let them see her. Not yet.

Alaric lets out a low, huffing breath against her hand, giving her one last "Wolf Kiss" of pressure. Then, he spins around and vanishes into the trees before she can even blink.

Juniper stands alone in the garden, her hand still tingling.

"Wait!" she calls out, but the forest is silent.

Behind the trees, Alaric shifts back into his human form. He stands naked in the shadows, his skin humming, his heart racing. He looks at his hands, still feeling the ghost of her touch.

"Juniper," he whispers. The name feels like a prayer on his tongue.

He knows what he has to do. He has to claim her. He has to protect her. And he has to find a way to tell his pack of killers that their new Luna... doesn't even know that monsters are real.

Alaric looks back at the greenhouse one last time. His eyes glow a fierce, predatory amber.

"Mine," he says to the wind. "And nobody is going to touch you."