All Chapters of Feral Hearts Book 1: Awakening the Feral: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

XAVIERThe forest shouldn't feel alive. Not like this. Not at midnight.But it does.The leaves don't just rustle — they whisper. Branches creak overhead like ribs stretching around a restless heart. The wind slides between the trees carrying more than cold; it carries warning. Every shadow bends wrong. Every snap beneath my worn sneakers sounds too loud, too close.I've been running long enough that my lungs burn raw. Still, I don't slow. I can't. Something in me is urging me forward and I can't shake it off.... Or I don't try.Then I smell him.Not fear. Not blood. Not the metallic bite of danger.Something hotter.Something feral.Aaron.His name doesn't enter my mind gently — it brands itself there. My pulse stumbles. My skin tightens as if it recognizes him before I do. Instinct surges hard and violent: run. Hide. Bury yourself deep enough that even he can't find you.But my body won't obey.He steps from the dark like he belongs to it. Just a few feet between us, yet the space f

The pack wakes before the sun fully rises.Not loudly.Not chaotically.But with purpose.The air shifts first — scents thickening as bodies move between cabins, patrol routes refresh, hierarchy reasserts itself in quiet dominance displays. Smoke curls from central fire pits. Boots press into damp soil still heavy with morning dew.I watch it all from the edge of the healer's porch.I shouldn't be standing.My ribs ache in slow, pulsing reminders. My shoulder burns where silver and branches tore through skin. But confinement is worse. The walls press too close. The air inside still smells faintly of him and it's making my headache from the day prior come back. Out here, at least, the wind moves freely.Two younger wolves stand near the training circle, their voices low but careless in that way wolves often are when they think they're unobserved."I'm telling you, he carried him.""I saw it.""Since when does he carry anyone?"A pause."Not since...""Stop."Silence."His father's dea

The frost hasn’t melted yet when we leave the clearing.It crunches under my boots — sharp, brittle, too loud in the quiet morning air. The forest feels different this early. Less alive. Like it’s holding its breath.Aaron walks ahead at first.Not far.Never far.But ahead enough that it feels deliberate.I hate that I notice that.“You’ll need to learn the boundaries,” he says without looking back.“I’m not staying.”“You are. For now.”His tone isn’t harsh. It’s worse. It’s certain.We move downhill toward a narrow ravine where roots twist through the earth like exposed bone. The ground slopes unevenly.“Step where I step,” he says.I bristle instantly. “I can walk.”“I know.”That shouldn’t feel like a challenge. But it does. So I don’t step where he steps, and immediately regret it. My sneaker slides on loose soil. My balance shifts. The world tilts.A hand closes around my forearm before I hit the ground.Strong.Warm.Unyielding.Aaron’s fingers dig in just enough to anchor me