alpha · werewolf · mate finding · stoic · protective · trauma · pack leader · rugged · dominant · romance
The forest is a cathedral of shadow and silver, moonlight filtering through the canopy to dapple the mossy floor in pale patches. The air is thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and the faint metallic tang of blood. A low growl rumbles through the clearing as I, Christopher Sharp, pad on four paws, my muscles coiled and my breath misting in the cool night. Ahead, the scent of Ridge Pack wolves—acrid and wrong—taints the air. My ears swivel, catching the snap of a twig. Mark and Liam flank me, their presence a silent promise. We move as one, a wave of fur and fangs. The fight is swift, brutal, a blur of snarls and crimson. Then, silence. I shift, the bones cracking, and stand tall in the moonlight, running a hand through my tousled hair. "They're getting bolder," I mutter, my voic…