I didn't let go. I hauled her toward me, dragging her until we were nose to snout. Panic radiated off her animal form. Her heart was a wild, frantic pulse against my chest. Slowly, she raised her eyes to mine. There it was—that emerald defiance, the stubborn spark that refused to be extinguished. And with it came that scent, that addictive, spicy floral musk that made my own wolf howl behind my ribs.
I leaned in, pressing my nose against her wet, black snout. It was an intimate, jarring collision of two worlds. Addie went rigid. Then, her tongue flicked out, tentatively licking the tip of my nose.
I grinned, a low chuckle escaping my throat. I let my face sink into the fur of her neck, nuzzling deep, inhaling the scent of the wolf and the woman until it saturated my lungs. Tension bled out of her. Rigid muscles softened under my touch as she finally allowed herself to settle.
I released her and stood up. The moon caught the red of her coat as she sat back on her haunches, watching me. I didn't turn away this time. I undressed slowly, letting the silk and leather fall to the grass, giving her exactly what she’d asked of me—the chance to see. Her emerald eyes tracked every movement, every scar, every tensed muscle, until I stood naked before her in the silver light.
Then, I let the darkness take me.
The shift was a roar in my blood. My bones shattered and elongated. My skin stretched and thickened into midnight fur.My human thoughts dissolved into the hyper-focused reality of the wolf.
I was a large black beast, a shadow given teeth and weight.
We repeated our initial dance. I approached her as an equal this time, my paws silent on the lawn. We came nose to nose, inhaling each other. I let out a sharp, inviting huff, then spun toward the tree line.
I didn't look back to see if she followed. I knew she would. We hit the woods as a single blur of motion, the garden disappearing behind us as we surrendered to the run.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ADDIE
Ihad forgotten this.
I had spent a decade pretending my legs were meant for trousers and high heels. But out here, under the silver bleed of the moon, I was nothing but muscle, breath, and speed. I was a streak of copper fire in the dark.
Beside me, the black shadow that was Vidar moved with liquid grace. He was larger than me; his scent a heavy anchor of cedar and forest. He didn't crowd me. He matched my stride, our breaths forming a jagged, rhythmic symphony in the cold air.
For years, I had run as a ghost. A lone wolf haunting the edges of a world that didn't want me. But as we broke into a wide meadow, the air changed. Three more shadows merged from the tree line; the massive, steady weight of Magnus, the restless, loping presence of Gunnar, and the frenetic energy of Ivar.
It was no longer just a run; it was a pack.
The exhilarating pull of it was a drug. The collective heat of them. The silent communication of ears twitching and tails wagging. My animal brain sang with the overwhelming security of the line. I wasn't just running through the woods; I was the woods.
Ivar ran alongside me, his wolf playful. I'd run a few times with my brother when he was this age. I'd missed so much of Elias growing up as a man and as a wolf.
The exhilaration of the run stuttered when a shadow larger and denser than Vidar’s pulled up alongside my flank. Magnus.
In the moonlight, his grey fur looked like hammered lead, his paws striking the earth with a heavy thud that vibrated in my chest. Instinctively, I cowered. My ears flattened against my skull, my tail tucked tight, a reflexive surrender born from years of surviving Adolphus Vane. I expected the snap at my ankles, the sharp nip to my hock to force me into a different stride, or the rake of a claw against my ribs to remind me I was out of place. That was the only Alpha language I knew; the language of scars and smallness.
The bite never came.
Magnus didn't growl to assert dominance. He didn't use the jagged edges of his presence to cut me down. He was simply there, a mountain of quiet authority that didn't need to bark to be felt. Still, even without the violence, the weight of him was suffocating. It was hard to breathe, hard to relax when every nerve in my body was screaming that a king was walking beside me.
He seemed to sense the frantic rhythm of my heart, the way I flinched away from his massive shoulder. He didn't push. Instead, he let out a short, huffing breath. It was a sound that was almost dismissive of my fear. Magnus surged forward.
He took point at the very front of the line. His head high. His ears swiveling. A sentinel scouring the dark for anythingthat might dare threaten the pack trailing behind him. Adolphus would never have taken the lead. My father was the kind of wolf who sat in the center of the circle and sent his soldiers out to take the brunt of the attack, using their bodies as a shield for his own hide.
Magnus was a shield himself. The steady, powerful rhythm of his tail cleared the path ahead. He wasn't a jailer; he was a guardian. And in this house of monsters, I didn't know which one was more terrifying.
Gunnar’s shadow fell over me. In his wolf form, Gunnar was a thick-set, silver-grey brawler. He approached with the swagger of a male who knew he was charming in any skin. He let out a playful huff and nudged my shoulder with his snout, a move that was half-invitation, half-challenge.
A low, guttural vibration started in the earth beneath me. It wasn't my growl. It was Vidar’s.
Vidar’s black form launched from the shadows before Gunnar could even blink. He didn't bark; he exploded. He slammed into Gunnar’s side with enough force to send the silver wolf tumbling across the damp grass.
I stood back, my hackles rising, my tail tucked tight as I watched the dynamic shift. Earlier, Ivar had tumbled around me, nipping at my ears like the pup he was, and Vidar hadn't moved a muscle. But Gunnar was a grown male, a predator in his prime. Competition.
Vidar was on a serious, lethal attack. He snapped at Gunnar’s throat; his teeth clicking together was the sound of a closing trap. He was a whirlwind of black fur and snarling fury. But as I watched, my wolf’s instincts began to read the play.
