Page 5

S undays are usually good.

Usually, it’s my one day off.

My reset.

My calm day.

But after last night?

I’m so fucking revved I can’t sit still.

My blood is running hot. My Bull is on a slow burn, pacing inside me like a storm waiting to break.

And all because other Shifters were sniffing around Arliss.

Around my girl.

The scent of them still clings to the memory of that back door— the piss-stale stench of territory-marking bastards who had no idea who they were messing with.

Fucking cats.

Felines, always so smug with their slinky moves and twitchy little tails, like they're not just one step away from coughing up a hairball.

Marking their territory like this was their goddamn litter box.

Fuck. Them.

After the place cleared out, I waited. I watched Arliss walk out under the glow of the parking lot lights, those blonde curls bouncing with every step, her keys clutched in her hand like she was ready for anything.

But she didn’t know I was there.

Watching. Guarding.

She never knows.

Once she was home, safe behind her door, I circled back to the bar and poured ammonia all over their piss-stains like a one-man vengeance parade.

My Bull huffed, a low grunt of satisfaction.

Not enough, but better.

And right now? That had to count for something.

The morning air was crisp, biting through my jacket, but it wasn’t the cold I felt. Not really.

It was the shift.

The change.

Seasons turning, time stretching, the inevitable crawl toward something bigger than I can name.

Like me and my Bull are standing on the edge of a cliff, and I just don’t know what side we’re going to fall on.

The Rut’s been haunting me ever since my mom found an old Witch back in hometown. Her name was Abigail, and she scared the piss out of me when I was a kid.

But she sat me down and told me the truth.

I never knew how my mom found her, but after so much frustration and not understanding what was happening to me, I was glad she had.

Abigail was the only one who ever really explained what I was. What I’d become.

Bull. Shifter. Cursed.

I didn’t want to hear it then.

Didn’t want to believe I was something more. Or something less.

Now I wish I’d listened harder.

Because the Rut isn’t just some heat cycle or mood swing.

It’s a total collapse of reason. A full-body hijack.

A beast takes over, and all it wants is to claim.

Breed. Possess.

And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight it when it comes.

What if I turn into just another feral bastard like my sire?

A walking set of horns and hormones with no soul left behind the eyes?

I’ve never even met another Bull Shifter.

Not once.

For all I know, I’m the last one standing.

And maybe that’s why I’ve spent my whole life running.

Running from what I am.

Running from the blood that’s in me.

Running from the day my stepfather told me I was a freak and shoved me out the door like a kicked dog.

Yeah. Maybe I’m a coward.

But even cowards want to live. Want to belong.

And when I came to Motley Crewd Ranch, I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d found something like home.

Not just a place to sleep.

A place to breathe.

A promise of a real life.

But promises were sneaky little bastards.

They could be broken far too easily.

And deep down, I’ve been wishing for more.

A mate.

Someone who could tether me.

Save me from myself.

But now that I’ve met her?

Now that Arliss is a real, living heartbeat in my life and not just some daydream, well, I’m terrified.

Because I can’t risk her.

I don’t even know what the fuck would happen if I claimed her and the Rut decided to take over anyway.

Would I hurt her?

Would I break her?

The idea guts me.

I already know I couldn’t live with myself if I let that happen.

She’s too bright.

Too soft.

Too goddamn good for the darkness I carry around like a second skin.

And the worst part?

I don’t have a single fucking answer.

No elders to ask. No books to study. No brotherhood to lean on.

It’s just me.

Me and this monster in my blood.

And the woman I can’t have but would die to protect.

“Yo, Kian! Come over here a second,” Dante calls out from the south pasture, his deep voice carrying easily across the open field.

I jog over, boots kicking up dust. I’m not really in the mood but I’m moving, anyway.

Usually, I love nothing more than riling up the big Grizzly, poking at his soft spots until he growls and mutters and pretends not to like me.

But today? Today I’m too lost in my own goddamn head.

So when he asks for help, I just do it.

No sass.

No commentary.

I just move mechanically, nod, and help.

“Hold that post. Must’ve gotten loose during the storm the other day,” he grunts, already raising the mallet.

I plant my hands on the fence and brace.

He swings, driving the post down into the damp earth with that casual Bear strength all his kind seem to have.

I watch, but I’m barely there.

My body’s moving, but my mind?

It’s miles away.

Still wrapped up in blonde curls, blue eyes, and the scent of wildflowers and sweat behind a bar.

We can’t afford downed fences on the ranch.

Not unless we want the place overrun by Dolly Lees, Lous, and Maes before sundown.

The goats.

Jed, our resident goat whisperer, spoils the hell out of those ornery little beasts.

I pretend to grumble, but honestly? I kind of love those stubborn creatures. Especially Dolly Lou.

That girl is known to headbutt a fence post and knock a Shifter on his ass all in the same day.

Also? Her dairy game is unmatched.

Who knew goat cheese could be so creamy, tangy, and borderline addictive?

As a Bull Shifter who’s vegetarian out of sheer moral defiance, I get most of my protein from dairy.

The fridge back in my cabin is stuffed to the gills with milk, yogurt, eggs, and cheese.

Seriously, it’s like a protein-packed dairy temple in there.

I can’t wait till we start harvesting all the vegetables we’ve been sowing every which way across this place.

The farm side of Motley Crewd Ranch has been quiet, asleep really , all winter long. The whole place seemed tucked beneath snow and silenced during those months.

Like the whole damn earth was holding its breath.

But now? Now it’s spring, baby.

And my Bull is restless.

He’s itching, stomping inside me like he’s got hooves and sunlight in his veins.

Because this is his season.

This is when the ground wakes up, when the air turns sweet, and the fields breathe again.

We’ve spent weeks turning soil, tilling rows, planting seeds like we were casting spells, coaxing life back into this patch of land one shovel, one calloused hand, one whispered promise at a time.

And soon, well , soon it’s gonna bloom.

And yeah, I’m a Bull Shifter, not a farmer.

But there’s something about this part of ranch life that settles deep into my bones.

The rhythm.

The growth.

The work.

It’s honest.

It’s real.

And for someone like me— someone who’s been running from his roots most of his life —it’s a rare kind of peace.

I can feel it building.

Green things pushing through dark soil. New life coming.

It won’t be long now before we’re pulling up fat carrots and tender squash, tomatoes that drip sunlight, and more zucchini than anyone ever actually needs.

And my Bull?

He wants to see every bit of it.

Wants to stand in those rows and breathe deep and feel what we built grow beneath our feet.

Wants to watch something rise from the dirt that doesn’t scare him.

Something we made with our own hands.

And if I’m honest?

I want it, too.

The fact Max, our Alpha and primary owner here, gifted us each a stake in the place is just frosting. My Bull’s already tethered here, but now that my human side owns a piece, well, I feel something too.

An attachment. A reason.

And I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t scared of fucking it up.

But that is the thing about having a Crew at your back.

They won’t let me.

And thank God for that.

Dante finishes with one final swing, the post firmly back in place.

“Good. Thanks,” he mutters, brushing dirt from his hands.

“No problem,” I reply automatically.

He eyes me sideways.

And I know that look.

It’s that Bear Shifter curiosity, all honest and open in a way that somehow always manages to get under my skin.

“What’s eating you?”

I glance up, trying to play it cool. “How do you mean?”

He tilts his head, squinting like he’s studying a strange specimen.

“You haven’t said one wise-ass thing about group hugs, our little friendship text chain, or how we should all get matching bracelets in the ten minutes you’ve been standing here. Seriously. What gives?”

I snort, even as I roll my eyes.

Okay, fair.

Annoying is kind of my thing.

I’ve always had this unspoken deal with the Crew— I’m the funny one .

The lightweight.

The mouth.

The guy cracking jokes in a room full of stone-faced, emotionally constipated Alpha types.

I’m the guy who lightens the mood when things get too heavy.

Who makes it all feel like maybe it’s not so serious, even when it is. But not lately.

Not since her.

Not since I smelled danger on her skin and saw red when some cat-shifter punk tried to put his hands where they didn’t belong.

Not since I realized the way she walks through my head even when I’m asleep.

And the worst part?

Everyone else?

They’ve already found it.

Their someone.

Their forever.

One by one, they’ve paired off, fallen in love, and settled into their happy little worlds with their mates.

All of them.

Except me and Zeke.

And I don’t know what stings more.

That I’m still alone.

Or that I may have found her. But I can’t have her.

Shit.