Kaya

I could say I’m running on instinct, but that would be a lie.

My instinct is tied to my wolf, and the way my wolf has been reacting tonight is absurd. Instead, I let my brain do the work right now and run as fast as I can from danger. Because that man is clearly dangerous. I saw the blood on him. What happened to the brown wolf? Is he dead? Did the black wolf just casually kill someone because of…me?

The thought makes my wolf feel a deep-seated satisfaction, laced with so much sick righteousness that I choke.

Could this man really be my mate? Is this what having a mate feels like? Like a volatile, conflicting experience that makes you want to run away from or run toward a monster? Could this be a variation of it? Nobody, including any books I read about mates or werewolf tradition, ever described mating as whatever is happening to me right now.

My dad never said anything about it, but I was thirteen when he was violently taken away from me—too young for us to discuss details like this. But I can imagine him talking to me about everything important when the time was right. He’d always been such a free spirit, always told me that I reminded him of himself. My uncle, Tobias, on the other hand has always filtered everything that reached me. Is the reality of the mating ritual yet another one of the things he made sure everybody would shield me from growing up?

My uncle talks about monsters all the time, including those who killed my father.

But nobody ever said anything about what it would be like if a monster was your mate.

Do you really think you can outrun this man?

The question startles me out of my thoughts. It burns in my head, because it’s true. The black wolf is faster than me—he caught up to me earlier easily. But he hasn’t yet this time. I’m splashing through a stream when suddenly I hear him in pursuit, splashing behind me. He could catch up to me right now, but he doesn’t. Is he teasing me? Did he just let me gain a short distance out of amusement?

Is he enjoying this?

My wolf is so thrilled by the chase that my entire body is buzzing with pent-up energy that doesn’t seem to let go. I tell myself it’s the adrenaline, it’s the fear I feel—it’s not enthusiasm. But then, I remember something.

In the particular case of an overly willful Omega, it may be natural for a chase to become part of the mating ritual.

I read that. Somewhere. Or someone said it. My aunt—I think. I can’t even focus enough right now to remember. She wouldn’t have said it to me directly, but still, I might be onto something. Yet this, what’s happening right now, can’t be a mating ritual. Because that stranger is not my mate, and I can’t take him down on my own. I need help. I need the only man who’s ever meant anything to me.

Stone.

He might’ve realized what a mistake he made by now. He must realize he made a mistake. But could I ever forgive him? Could I ever forgive Dani? Did she tell him that I ran off? Wouldn’t he be upset—wouldn’t he come after me? Maybe he’s hot on our trail now, looking for me. My wolf, though, growls like she’s angry at me for even thinking of Stone.

Does she think this is a game? Does she not see the danger? What the hell does she think is going to happen if the wolf did catch me? Things could escalate so easily, starting with submission and ending with—what?

It may be natural for a chase to be part of the mating ritual.

My mind flashes back to the way this man looked at me at the Gathering. The way his touch lingered against my skin long after. Even though he is close enough to mindlink me again right now, he has not again. Not yet. My wolf misses the sound of his voice.

Meanwhile, I’m scrambling up a stony rise by the stream, praying that the Nightstar compound is just on the other side. My wolf’s irritated yowl, combined with the sudden treacherous steepness of the rise, makes me lose my footing. I fall back down, splashing into the stream.

Damn it!

I jump up immediately, shaking off the water.

The moment my vision clears, I see him.

He is standing right before me, only ten feet between us.

His wolf is growling, but his voice in my head is steady.

He asks, Have you had enough?

I won’t be able to climb up the rise and get to the other side. I can’t run again—it would be ridiculous to even try to evade him when he’s so close. Even though my uncle said it would never come handy, since the way he saw it, I’d always have security around the corner, I insisted on learning to defend myself. But fighting this man looks like a lost cause—it would be like trying to bring down a mountain. If he could eradicate that massive brown wolf, what chance do I have?

After the chase is over, it would be natural for a fight to take place.

The words pop into my head. Again, not sure from where, who said them, not sure if they’re accurate, but they’re there. And my wolf’s tail flips up. She is excited, because if she takes him on, they will come close again. There will be contact, and friction and—

This is madness.

I growl and snap at his leg.

He sidesteps like I’m a goddamn fly, his evasion so smooth it’s infuriating.

You’re not very good at this, he says. Condescendingly.

Go to hell, I snarl.

Howling, I rear back and lunge at him, slamming into his side. He is a giant mass of muscle unlike anything I’ve ever seen, but he stumbles. I made him stumble, and I get a huge jolt of confidence. We crash into the bank, both of us rolling into the water. My head is close to his leg, and I bite it as hard as I can. He doesn’t even react. He merely tosses me off, sending me crashing. I shake off the water, fighting to collect my bearings.

Slowly, taking his time, he moves toward me.

Are you done now? he asks in that same matter-of-fact tone he used earlier. Full of authority, full of certainty, full of so much goddamn arrogance it could turn into a power source and light up an entire city.

Never, I snap, charging at him again.

He rears back, and I miss—

Falling face-first into the water.

I jump up and catch him watching me, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Amusement.

This son of a bitch is enjoying himself.

You’re really bad at this, actually, he says.

I am going to kill him.

I charge again, and this time, it works. He’s a mountain, but I’m moving him. This time, he’s falling backward, and I’m on top, but that doesn’t last.

He flips me onto my back in a second flat.

I’m immobilized against the stream’s bank, right where the ground meets the water. His wolf is giant, cowering on top of me. A beast in its purest form, a monster if I’ve ever seen one. I should be terrified, horrified. And yet, with his scent surrounding me, his eyes fixed in mine, his weight crushing me, I am not afraid.

My wolf has never felt so safe.

This is out of my control.

This is…

A trap.

I snap at him, going for his neck, when his next move shocks me.

“Shift,” he orders. He speaks out loud.

Before my eyes, the giant black wolf has shifted first. He is now a man, that same intimidating scar grazing the right side of his face. He’s spoken in a voice that’s so sharp it could’ve been menacing, but it’s not his tone that threatens my composure. It’s the sight of him. I can’t help myself—I can’t not look at him.

He’s naked. Moonlight spills across his sun-kissed broad shoulders, illuminating every sculpted detail. His bare chest, a wall made of muscle, glistens with water, every droplet cascading south, and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to look further down.

I look up instead.

His eyes meet mine, and that’s the biggest mistake I’ve made tonight.

“I said, shift,” he repeats, gaze narrowed.

I snarl.

He grits his teeth. “Shift.”

My wolf is reeling. The drive to obey him is so strong my jaws are snapped shut because I know she’s going to whimper out loud if I let her. My heart beats so hard I think it’s going to give out. His presence, the raw power radiating off of him, his scent—it’s everywhere, all over me, and I can’t stop myself.

I give in.

I shift back to human.

His lips part the second he takes me in. His gaze leaves scorching trails across my skin. He stares—from my eyes to my lips, down my neck and further down. A gush of air escapes him. He shivers. He shivers at the sight of me, and the realization that I did that to him—that I have this kind of power over him even though he’s so ferocious—makes my head spin.

I’m breathing hard, taking in his aroma greedily, gorging myself on it. In contrast, he’s eerily steady, his breaths deep as if he’s enjoying every second of this, the dip of his head smooth. I gasp when his nose trails down my temple, my throat, to the crook of my neck.

He’s scenting me.

The thought of him leaving a mark there makes my toes curl.

“Say it,” he mutters against my collarbone. “Say you’re mine.” The words scorch my skin. His grip on my wrists, pinned over my head, tightens further.

This is a trap alright.

He is.

And he’s threatening to close down on me.

My voice is low and shaky, but sharp. “I’m not your mate. I can’t be.”

His jaw clenches. His scent, already so potent it’s dizzying, shifts. The aroma sharpens just as his gaze darkens, and when I take both in, my breath hitches. Something in me snaps, a dam breaking, and every inch of me turns liquid and aflame. Everything in me screams to submit, receive, because he is what I need.

I need him so badly it feels like hunger.

He opens his mouth to speak, loosens his grip to release, but I could never let him.

I lift my head and kiss him like I could devour him whole.