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H azel

“You heard about the Moonfang’s lead warrior, right?”

Jerrod, a lean, wiry wolf from my pack, tilts his head toward Rhyne, our troop leader.

“I’ve heard plenty,” Rhyne grunts, the sharpness of his jawline matching the edge of his clipped tone. He leans casually against his spear. “They say he’s practically feral in the ring. Kieran’s best.”

“Nothing a regular Nightclaw won't blow out the ring,” I add with a chuckle.

“You know it,” Jerrod agrees with a shoulder nudge, and we chuckle.

“Isn’t the Alpha himself here?” Gareth, Gamma’s right hand, chimes in. He’s younger than others who have previously filled the position. He’s ambitious and less subtle than he thinks.

“Of course, he’s here.” Rhyne twists his lips and looks around. “Wouldn’t be an alliance negotiation without Moonfang parading their top dogs.”

“Look, I learned something that could work when I shift…” They st art talking about their wolves, and I sigh. Yet another conversation I can’t be part of.

The sparring pit bustles with energy, the tang of metal from polished swords mixing with the heady scent of the trees surrounding the clearing.

Warriors from packs all over the region mill around, loud, jumpy, and boisterous.

The only reason this is possible without the wolves going fang for hide is because of the neutral territory treaty.

That is the only way the once-in-a-decade alliance negotiation event can take place.

Different group circles discuss things I cannot relate to, like having a wolf.

My heart thuds in time with their chatter as I shift my weight from one side to the other, trying to focus.

I’m stuck with the serious guys. I guess I was part of the serious guys because I never could talk about things like having a mate or fantasizing about one.

Seeing as, well, I don’t have a wolf to mate yet.

Their banter fades into a dull hum as I step back, the earth crunching beneath my boots.

It’s not that I’m uninterested in the politics of this event; I just don’t feel like I belong.

Everything they say about their wolves, strength, and power reminds me of what I don’t have.

My wolf, my so-called other half, is nothing more than a ghost inside me.

A late-bloomer, the term they all whisper like it’s a curse.

I look into the gathering, taking note of the powerful members from every pack. They’re proud, towering wolves, their presence a mixture of dominance and grace. My stomach tightens. Even here, where I should be proud to stand among Nightclaw’s warriors, I feel like an outlier.

I’m barely taller than five foot seven and don’t have a wolf. I’m not as muscular as the others in my troop, and I have no friends. Being the Nightclaw Gamma’s only child was pressure enough. Being the child no one expected me to be, that’s even worse. Wolves don’t know how to hide pity.

“You all right, Hazel?” Jerrod always checks in on me and notices when I’m staring into the distance and not listening.

“Fine,” I lie, brushing him off with a smile.

But I can’t stay here. Not when every laugh and comment feels directed at the void inside me, the space where my wolf should have been. I take another step back, then another, until the murmurs fade and the fresh scent of water lures me deeper into the forest.

The stream marks the boundary between our territory and neutral ground. It’s where the alliance negotiation events are held. It sparkles in the midday sun. I crouch by the edge, running my fingers over the cool surface, the rippling water a balm for my frayed nerves.

That’s when I feel a shift in the air. It’s barely there, but I can’t deny the electric thrum in the air.

I turn and my breath catches.

A wolf stands down the stream, its fur a rich, deep grey that gleams like steel in the sunlight.

It’s massive, its eyes a piercing blue that locks onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

My instincts scream at me to look away, but I can’t.

There’s something in that gaze. It’s familiar, magnetic.

Neither of us moves. The air between us crackles with an energy I’ve never felt before, an almost tangible force that tugs at the edges of my mind.

I blink, and the wolf is gone. Its lithe form vanishes into the trees as if it were never there.

My heart pounds in the sudden stillness.

The appearance of the wolf, those eyes, both are burned into my mind, and I want to chase after it, see where it’s gone, but I force myself to my feet, brushing off the dirt on my pants.

I can’t afford to get distracted. Not now.

I’m one of the warriors who will be sparring today, and I must be on my game. Being the high-ranking pack runt would be even more embarrassing if I lost during my first public sparring match.

When I return to the sparring pit, the crowd has swelled, the energy crackling with anticipation. I push my way through, my shoulders brushing against warriors twice my size. My chest tightens when I see the Alpha booth at the far end of the clearing.

And then I see him.

Sitting there, his posture regal yet relaxed, is the man whose wolf I saw moments ago. I know it’s him. Those eyes are unforgettable, framed with thick brows. The left brow has a scar that runs down to his cheek.

His human form is just as mesmerizing as his wolf. He’s a beautiful man with hair that flows over his shoulder in the gentle breeze. He’s seated, but I can tell he’s tall and imposing. He’s the kind of tall that dominates whatever space he is in.

His broad shoulders and muscular arms show how formidable a fighter he is.

He’s not burly or bulky. He’s just pure lean muscle.

Something stirs inside me just looking at him.

It’s like the world is still. It’s just me and him.

I look at the tag for his booth. It reads: Alpha Kieran of the Moonfang pack.

His piercing blue eyes sweep over the gathering before they rest on me.

The moment our gazes lock, the world tilts.

It’s like a jolt of electricity straight to my core. The magnetic pull I felt earlier intensifies, and the realization hits me with a blow.

Mate.

The word echoes in my mind, carrying a wave of hope with it that is so strong it nearly knocks me off balance. For the first time in years, I feel something other than emptiness. Is that my voice? It sounds different, like it’s coming from somewhere that isn’t quite…me.

The sound of my name being called jolts me back to the present.

“Callister! Get in the pit!”

My stomach churns, and the sight of Kieran still burns in my mind. My hands clench into fists as I force myself to step forward, my boots crunching against the gritty dirt path leading to the ring. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and then—

Mate.

Again.

The word is a whisper, yet it crashes through my mind with the force of a thunderstorm.

The voice isn’t mine. It’s hers—my wolf.

I freeze for half a second, the realization hitting me square in the chest. My wolf has finally spoken, and her first word is a claim.

And it’s freaking Kieran? The Alpha of the Moonfang pack?

My wolf must be insane or delusional—or both.

Fear snakes its way up my spine, cold and paralyzing. I glance toward the Alpha booth, where Kieran sits like a carved statue of power and indifference. His gaze sweeps over me, cold and dismissive, as if I’m nothing more than another nameless fighter in the crowd.

My wolf growls inside me, furious at his disregard, but I shove the feeling down. Not now, I plead silently. My wolf quiets, but I can feel her lingering, watching, waiting…like she’s just waiting for me to get this fight over with so she can go after what she awakened for.

Right. I’m not that important to anyone. Not even my wolf.

The air is heavy with the tang of sweat, metal, and grease. My opponent, Cain of the Moonfang, stands in the center of the ring, his hulking figure casting a long shadow.

He smirks as I step into the pit, his amber eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “Ready to dance, Callister?”

I roll my shoulders, keeping my expression neutral despite the knot tightening in my stomach. “I’ve been ready.”

The crowd presses closer, their excitement buzzing in the air. The announcer’s voice fades into background noise as Cain and I take our positions, the pit’s edges marked by a rough circle of stones.

The signal to start comes, and Cain lunges, his movements fluid and precise.

He’s fast. Faster than I anticipated.

I duck under his first swing, feeling the rush of air as his fist passes inches from my head. My smaller build works to my advantage as I dart around him, keeping out of reach of his powerful strikes. The crowd roars, their cheers blending into a chaotic symphony of sound.

“That all you’ve got?” Cain taunts, his grin widening.

I don’t respond. My focus is razor-sharp as I analyze his movements. He’s strong, but he’s not invincible. Every swing is wide and powerful, but each one leaves his side open for a split second.

I seize the opportunity, twisting to the side and delivering a sharp kick to his ribs. The impact reverberates through my leg, and Cain stumbles, but he recovers quickly, his growl reverberating through the pit.

“Not bad,” he snarls, his voice tinged with amusement.

The next exchange is faster and more intense. Cain shifts partially, his claws elongating, his muscles bulging as his wolf strengthens him. I grit my teeth, dodging and parrying, but the strain is starting to wear on me.

The crowd is cheering for Cain now, their voices a tidal wave of support. My breaths come in short gasps, sweat dripping down my temple. I can feel my strength waning, my limbs growing heavy.

And then, I feel a spark, a surge of energy that isn’t mine but what I now recognize as my wolf.

Fight, Hazel, she urges, her voice steady and commanding.

My senses sharpen. Every sound and movement is crystal clear. The weight of my exhaustion lifts as my wolf lends me her strength and sharp instincts. I dart forward faster than I thought possible, delivering precise strikes that catch Cain off guard.

He growls, his frustration evident as he adjusts his stance, but it’s too late. The tide of the fight has shifted.

For the first time, I hear the crowd cheer for me, their voices a chorus of surprise and admiration. My wolf preens at the sound, her pride swelling within me.

There, there, Prima donna. The fight isn’t over yet.

Cain lunges again, his movements more erratic now, and I sidestep, using his momentum against him. The final clash leaves us both panting, our bodies locked in a stalemate as the announcer steps forward.

“A tie!” he declares, his voice booming over the crowd.

The pit erupts in applause and shouts, the noise a blur in my ears as I step back, my chest heaving. Cain meets my gaze, his smirk replaced by something resembling respect.

“Not bad,” he says grudgingly, extending a hand.

I take it, the brief shake firm and resolute.

As I exit the pit, my troop members swarm me, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of congratulations.

“How did you pull that off?” Jerrod asks, his wide eyes gleaming with excitement.

“That was incredible,” Rhyne adds, clapping me on the shoulder.

I try to muster a response, but their words barely register. My focus drifts, my wolf’s presence humming in my mind. There’s an ache spreading through me, deep and insistent, that has nothing to do with the fight.

Mate.

My wolf’s voice is a growl now. I know exactly who she’s calling for. She waited long enough, and now I can feel her insistence on claiming me.

My gaze lifts, drawn unbidden to the Alpha booth. Kieran is still watching, his piercing blue eyes locked on mine. My heart stutters, my wolf pressing against the edges of my mind, her desire to close the distance between us overwhelming.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my feet are moving. The crowd fades away, the noise a distant hum as I walk toward him, drawn by the invisible thread of our bond. I have a mate. A Fated Mate.

Kieran is ours, my wolf whispers, her voice thick with possessive pride.

But then, I see a bunch of females clustered around him, their flirtatious laughter grating against my senses. A flare of jealousy ignites in my chest, my wolf snarling in protest.

I stop abruptly, my pulse pounding in my ears.

What am I doing? This is madness. I’m in the middle of an inter-pack event, surrounded by warriors and elders.

If I make a scene, if I act on this pull, the consequences could be catastrophic.

I could be the laughingstock of all the packs present.

I could be punished for conspiring with our rivals.

Anything could happen. My social reputation is at stake.

Kieran’s gaze flicks to the women around him, and for a brief moment, something dark flashes across his expression. He ignores them entirely, rising to his feet. I have to move. This can’t happen here. For all I know, he is the herald of my doom.

I spot Gareth on the other side of the ring, engrossed in the fight.

Jerrod is right next to him. Great. I just need to get to the other side.

I’d be safe there. I start moving through the press of bodies.

I slip under the giant arms of some of the bigger wolves and shimmy between them when I can, pressing against sweaty bodies.

But before I make it even halfway to the other side, I feel a hand grab me and pull me back.