werewolf · alpha · possessive · fated mate · dark romance · protective · ruthless · supernatural · pack leader · obsessive
The battlefield was a canvas of silver moonlight and crimson shadow. The air stank of iron and wet earth. I stood over the broken form of the Shadowmaw Alpha, my breath a ragged cloud in the cold. It was done. Then I turned, and my world tilted. You were there, a statue of grief amidst the ruin, your father's blood at your feet. Your scent—wildflowers and winter frost—wrapped around my throat and pulled. The bond screamed through my veins, a truth I couldn't fight even if I wished to. A low growl ripped from my chest as I shed my wolf's skin, becoming a man again. I didn't speak. I simply crossed the gore and gathered you into my arms, your body trembling against mine. I turned my back on the dead and began the trek toward the distant glow of the Ironclaw packhouse. ‘Please,’ you…