Page 28 of The Alpha’s Chosen Mate

Chapter Fifteen

EMILY

20 Years Old, December 27th, 1992

The wind howls outside my window. I stare out at the snow-covered grounds, watching the flurries as they coat the redwood trees. Frost etches delicate patterns along the edge of the window, but I don’t feel the cold. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m burning up from the inside out. Something prowls beneath my skin, agitated and anxious and wild.

It wants out. It wants to be free.

My skin itches and ripples as the moon peeks out from behind the clouds for a split second, and a howl pierces my ears. Not a howl from the unfortunate warriors running patrols in the snow, but one from within—from my mind.

My wolf.

I don’t think. I don’t plan. My feet carry me out of my apartment before I can consider if it’s even safe to go out in this weather. Because my wolf doesn’t care. She’s in charge of my actions right now, and she wants out.

Outside. Free. No longer weak, but strong.

Before I know it, I’m at the forest’s edge, leaving a trail of footsteps behind me for anyone to follow.

They’re deeper than they normally would be, as if my wolf is ensuring they’ll stay visible longer. As if she wants someone to follow.

I don’t dwell on that, on her desire for him to be with us. Ever since that day I finally saw her in my mind, she’s pushed forward more and more, especially when he has been around. Her growing attachment to him will only hurt us both in the long run. He’ll find his mate, and my wolf and I will be left grieving and broken as he makes her his luna—his world.

I can’t let my wolf’s attachment feed into my own.

The forest is dark—darker than normal. It’s the type of darkness that absorbs everything around it, where you can’t tell where it ends, where it feels like you’re part of the vast nothing. There are no stars, no light, no warmth. But I don’t need heat. I’m sweating, blood boiling as it pulses through me with every cacophonous beat of my heart.

My wolf guides me to the clearing, the one I failed to shift in a year ago, the same clearing I go to when I need to be alone so I can visualize her with no distractions. Not that it matters. Harrison is always on my mind, distracting me even when he’s busy with his future alpha duties and doesn’t know I’m thinking about him.

Hopefully, he never finds out how often I think of him. It doesn’t help that he’s always so kind to me, going out of his way to say hello and checking in with me whenever we spend time with Brad and Stephanie. I’d avoid him more often if I could, but his best friend is in love with my best friend, and that coincidence brings us into proximity frequently.

The snow in the clearing’s center is unmarred by prints. I stay at the edge, afraid to ruin the pristine surface with my clumsy traipsing. Instead, I circle the space, keeping the trees to my right and the clearing to my left as I tread the circumference.

My pace is frantic and sporadic. Inconsistent. Fast for a few steps, then normal, then as slow as someone trudging through thick mud. Nothing hurts, but everything is uncomfortable. The heightened senses I’ve acclimated to in the two years since switching packs sharpen further under the moonlight, my wolf lingering at the edge of my mind.

Cracking twigs. Crunching snow. Howls and growls. The sounds of the patrolling wolves filter through the forest from all the borders, loud enough that they seem to be right next to me despite being miles away.

My spine snaps and realigns. I lean against a tree, palm scraping against the bark as I grit my teeth. The pain is sharp, brief, and once it ends, another snap follows in its wake. Over and over, my bones crack and reassemble, bringing me to my knees.

My fingers curl into the snow, the freezing temperature a relief from my heated blood and the pain. It shocks my system, making me gasp. My tense muscles release as I fall into the snow with a sigh, letting it cushion my body. The scent of the woods—fresh-cut pine—grows stronger, and I latch on to it. It weaves around and through me, entwining with my wolf’s spirit and deepening my relaxation. Another exhale leaves me, my eyelids fluttering as I curl onto my side.

And that’s when I see him. Harrison, standing tall in his dark-brown lycan form, watching me intently from the trees, barely hidden by the branches. Admiration and pride shine in his eyes, and as I revel in it, the pain recedes.

“Harrison,” I say, but instead of my voice, instead of words, a soft yip soars across the clearing.

I don’t move a muscle, eyes wide, equal parts tempted and terrified to look down at myself. But Harrison’s lycan nods, and I lower my chin.

Pitch-black paws rest against the snow at the end of long, graceful legs. Flakes already dot my thick fur, like a dusting of powdered sugar on a dark chocolate brownie.

I rise to all fours on surprisingly steady paws and meet Harrison’s brown eyes once more before letting out a triumphant howl. He answers me, our chorus of excitement echoing across the pack grounds. The patrols answer back, concerned at first until Harrison mindlinks the pack.

“Emily finally shifted. I’ll be running through the eastern forest with her wolf.”

Before anyone can respond to him or congratulate me, I spin like a top and dart into the trees. Harrison chuckles deeply through mindlink—just to me—but he stays in the clearing.

I know what he’s doing. He’s giving me a head start. And I intend to take full advantage of it. He may be stronger and faster, but I’m small. I can fit into spaces he can’t.

I sprint, my wolf’s tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she flattens her ears and lowers her neck to streamline herself. The urge to howl and yip with excitement and pleasure is overwhelming, but I hold it in for now. I don’t want Harrison to find me too easily.