Chapter 16
798words
"Ready?" Thea asks, finding me in my room.
I nod, though I'm not sure I am. "What should I expect?"
"Joy," she says simply. "Freedom. Pack."
Downstairs, the great room is transformed—furniture pushed aside, windows open for moonlight. Wolves gather in excited groups, some already preparing to shift.
Across the room, Kieran speaks with Elena and older wolves. He wears only loose pants, his chest bare, his power stronger tonight with the moon's pull.
He looks up, finding my eyes across the room. For a moment, everything else fades away—just his eyes holding mine, asking a question I can't quite decipher.
Then Lyra appears at his side, saying something that pulls his attention away. The connection breaks, and I'm left feeling oddly bereft.
"It's time," Thea says, nudging me. "The moon's rising."
Kieran moves to the center of the room, the pack falling silent as he raises his hands.
"Tonight we run as one," he says, his voice carrying to every corner. "Under the full moon, we honor our wolves, our pack, our bonds to each other."
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd.
"Tonight we welcome new wolves to our run." His eyes find me again. "And we remember those who no longer run with us."
A moment of respectful silence.
"The moon calls," Kieran continues. "Let us answer."
The pack shifts as one—bones cracking, fur emerging. I let my wolf surge forward, the transformation washing over me with familiar pain and exhilaration.
On four paws, my senses heighten to a world of scents and sounds. Around me, thirty wolves of various colors turn toward the large black alpha wolf that is Kieran.
He approaches me slowly, his amber eyes familiar even in wolf form. He's massive, easily the largest wolf I've ever seen, his black fur gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the windows.
My heart races at the sight of him, a mixture of awe and something deeper, more primal.
Unlike Marcus's wolf form, which always filled me with dread, Kieran's wolf radiates power without menace, strength without cruelty.
My wolf responds, drawn to him with unprecedented intensity. The pull leaves me breathless as I resist the urge to press against him, to feel his midnight fur against mine.
He circles me, his amber gaze appraising. Through the bond, I feel his approval—admiration for my silver-gray coat and stance. His impressions translate clearly: beautiful, strong, worthy. The praise warms me from within.
The intensity of my reaction startles me, and I struggle to maintain my composure as he completes his circle and comes to stand before me.
He stops before me, lowering his head slightly in greeting. Not a demand for submission, but an invitation. I step forward, touching my muzzle to his in acceptance.
Approval ripples through the pack. Kieran leads us through the doors into the forest, the pack streaming behind in a river of fur and excitement.
I run beside him, reveling in freedom as the forest opens before us. Through the bond, I feel their joy, unity, and acceptance—nothing like the fear of Marcus's runs.
We run for what feels like hours, sometimes as one group, sometimes breaking into smaller hunting parties that rejoin later.
Kieran stays with me throughout, guiding me through the territory, showing me the best paths, the hidden meadows, the clear streams.
At one point, we pause on a high ridge overlooking a valley bathed in moonlight. The pack spreads out below us, some playing, some hunting, all free in a way I've never experienced.
Kieran's wolf sits beside mine, our fur almost touching. Through the strengthened pack bond, I feel his contentment, his pride in his territory and pack. And something else, something directed at me that feels warm and approving.
Later, we join a successful hunt, bringing down a buck together. The pack shares according to tradition—alpha first, then young and old, then others. But Kieran surprises me by nudging a choice portion to me before taking his own.
The gesture doesn't go unnoticed. Several wolves look our way, including Lyra, whose golden wolf watches with what seems like disapproval.
As the moon descends, we head back toward the house. Some wolves pair off into the forest for privacy. No one approaches me this way, though I notice several interested looks.
Near the house, Kieran leads me to a small clearing away from the others. He shifts back to human form, and after a moment's hesitation, I do the same.
The fabric shifts, revealing a jagged scar from my collarbone across my ribs—one of Marcus's ownership marks. Kieran's eyes catch it, his expression darkening. His hand hovers just above the scar without touching.
