Chapter Two
The Loner’s Curse
Altero
Most people who step onto my land never leave it alive.
That isn’t a threat.It’s just the way the wild works.The forest doesn’t care about politics or rank.It doesn’t care about ceremony or tradition.Out here, it’s tooth and claw and blood.Out here, it’s survival.
And I like it that way.
The river gurgles at my feet, icy water biting at my muzzle as I lower my head to drink.My whiskers drip as I lift it again, the chill clinging to me even through the black fur that coats my body.My paws sink into damp moss, my claws flexing against the earth.The night is alive with scents, the musky trail of a deer herd, the faint tang of a rabbit scurrying off to hide somewhere, and the sharp bite of pine.
It’s peaceful.Or at least, it should be.
The wind shifts and a new scent cuts through the forest like a blade.
Blood.
Fear.
Shifter.
My head snaps up, ears swiveling.My muscles lock tight.The scent coils inside me like smoke, foreign and wrong but somehow still welcome.
I stalk forward, silent as shadow.The forest bends around me, branches whispering as I pass.Each paw fall is a ghost, swallowed by pine needles.My black coat blends seamlessly with the night.Out here, I am the forest.I am the predator they fear.
And yet my chest aches and my heart stutters.Because beneath the copper tang of blood and the sting of fear, there’s something else.Something ancient.Something dangerous.
Mate.
The word slams into me, primal and undeniable.My wolf growls low, a rumble that vibrates through my bones.I bare my teeth to the empty air, as if I can snarl the truth away.
No.Not me.I don’t want this.
I push harder through the underbrush, each step silent, my instincts pulling me toward the source.My chest tightens with every breath I take of her scent.The bond coils tighter, burning through me like fire.
