Page 10 of Malcolm (The Sunburst Pack #1)

M ALCOLM’S BOOTS CRUNCHED AGAINST the rocky path as he climbed Sunburst Mesa. It seemed like he’d been on this tabletop more in the last two weeks than ever before.

But the sacred ground had been the site of every major pack event for generations, and now it would host the combat challenge that could determine his future as alpha. The thought sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins, sharpening his senses.

As he neared the top, the wind picked up, whipping through his short dark hair. Malcolm paused for a moment, letting the breeze cool the sweat on his skin.

He’d prepared for this. Hell, he’d been preparing his whole life. Combat was his forte, the area where he knew he outmatched Larissa. So why did he feel this gnawing uncertainty in his gut?

Shaking off the doubt, Malcolm crested the mesa.

The flat expanse of weathered stone stretched out before him, bordered by a breathtaking view of the New Mexico landscape.

The late afternoon sun painted the distant mountains in hues of purple and gold, a sight that never failed to stir something primal in him.

This was his territory, his to protect and lead.

His gaze swept across the gathering pack members until it landed on a lithe figure near the mesa’s edge. Larissa. Even from this distance, the fluid grace of her movements as she warmed up, her form silhouetted against the vast sky, held him rapt.

Damn, she’s beautiful.

The thought came unbidden, and Malcolm quickly shoved it aside. He couldn’t afford distractions, not now.

As he approached the makeshift arena formed by the circling pack members, Nick stepped forward to greet him. The temporary pack leader’s face was impassive, but Malcolm caught a glint of… Was that concern in his eyes?

“You ready for this?” Nick asked, his voice low.

Malcolm nodded, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. “Born ready.”

Nick’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “Just remember, this isn’t just about brute strength. Larissa’s—”

“Crafty. Yeah, I know,” Malcolm finished for him, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone. He didn’t need reminding of Larissa’s strategic mind. It was part of what made her such a formidable opponent…and such an intriguing woman.

Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “Okay, then. Take your place.”

Malcolm moved to the center of the circle Nick had sketched out in chalk on the ancient stone beneath his feet, a reminder of the power of pack tradition.

At least this time, no one was likely to die in the ring.

Across from him, Larissa stepped forward, her chin held high.

For a moment, their gazes locked, and a jolt of…something—Respect? Attraction? Challenge? Maybe all three?—hit Malcolm.

He pushed the confusing tangle of emotions aside.

Nick’s voice rang out across the mesa top. “The rules for this combat challenge are simple. You’ll begin with hand-to-hand combat. At my signal, you’ll shift to wolf form for the second phase. The bout ends when one of you yields or is pinned for a count of five. Any questions?”

Malcolm shook his head, never taking his eyes off Larissa. She did the same, her gaze steady and unflinching.

“Then begin!”

They started circling each other, the wind whipping around them adding to the tension. Malcolm kept his stance loose, ready to react to whatever Larissa might throw at him.

She struck first, a quick jab he barely managed to dodge. Malcolm grinned, adrenaline surging through him. This was what he lived for.

He countered with a swift kick, which Larissa blocked with her forearm. The impact sent a satisfying jolt up his leg. They exchanged a flurry of blows, neither gaining a clear advantage.

As they grappled, Larissa’s scent washed over him.

The feel of her body against his sent an unexpected shiver through him. She was all lean muscle and surprising strength, her skin warm and slick with sweat.

The momentary distraction cost him. Larissa hooked her leg behind his, nearly sending him sprawling. Malcolm stumbled, regaining his footing mere inches from the mesa’s edge. The sheer drop beyond sent a spike of adrenaline through him, sharpening his focus.

“Getting sloppy,” Larissa taunted, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Distracted?”

He growled in response, lunging forward. This time, he managed to grab her arm, using his superior strength to flip her over his hip. Larissa hit the ground with a grunt but rolled away before he could pin her.

They circled again, both breathing heavily. Malcolm could feel the pack watching them, could practically taste the tension in the air. This wasn’t just a fight; it was a demonstration of their fitness to lead.

“Getting slow in your old age?” Larissa feinted left.

“Your right hook’s improved since you gave me that gap in my baby teeth.” He dodged her jab smoothly.

“You deserved it. You put a frog in my desk.”

“It was a toad. And you screamed so loud Ms. Everett dropped her coffee.” He grinned at the memory, nearly missing her swift kick.

“I didn’t scream. I tactically retreated.” Larissa spun away from his counterattack. “Like you did when I caught you practicing your alpha speech in the bathroom mirror.”

Malcolm’s surprise gave her an opening. She struck, but he caught her wrist, pulling her close. “I wasn’t practicing an alpha speech.”

“No?” Their faces were inches apart. “What were you practicing, then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He had to release her as she twisted free.

They came together in a flurry of strikes and blocks, their childhood training merging seamlessly with adult skill. “Remember when we used to spar behind the Old Packhouse?” Larissa asked, landing a glancing blow.

“Until your mother caught us and made us clean the entire training area?”

“Worth it to see you covered in dust and complaining.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Malcolm protested, sweeping her legs. But she rolled with it, coming up smoothly. “I was providing constructive criticism.”

“Is that what you called it? Because I remember a lot of whining about the unfairness of cleaning duties.”

Their bodies collided again. “You always did bring out the worst in me,” Malcolm murmured.

“And the best,” Larissa said softly, then seemed to hear her own words. She covered by increasing her attack speed. “When you bothered to apply yourself.”

“Some of us didn’t need to study every minute of every day.”

“No, some of us just coasted on natural talent and charm.”

“You thought I was charming?” His delighted tone earned him a sharp jab to the ribs.

“I thought you were insufferable.” But her eyes sparkled with suppressed amusement. “Still do.”

Decades of history passed between them in a single look.

Nick’s voice cut across the mesa. “Shift!”

The change rippled through Malcolm, both familiar and exhilarating.

In seconds, where two humans had stood, two enormous wolves now faced each other. Malcolm’s dark gray fur bristled as he bared his teeth.

Across from him, Larissa’s coat gleamed. She was smaller than him in this form, but Malcolm knew better than to underestimate her.

He charged first this time, his larger size kicking up dust from the mesa’s surface as he tried to bowl Larissa over.

But she was ready for him. At the last second, she dodged, using the slight incline of the mesa to her advantage. Her teeth grazed his flank as he passed, drawing a yelp of surprise and pain from him.

Spinning around, Malcolm faced her again.

Larissa was using the terrain, making up for her smaller size with quick thinking and quicker movements. It was a strategy he wouldn’t have considered, and it was working.

They clashed again, a tangle of fur and fangs. Malcolm managed to get his jaws around the scruff of Larissa’s neck, but before he could press his advantage, she twisted free, her claws raking across his muzzle.

The sting of the scratch mixed with the heady scent of Larissa’s fur created a potent cocktail that made Malcolm’s head spin. He shook it off, refocusing on the fight.

He couldn’t let himself get distracted, not now.

She might not have his raw strength, but she was making him work for every advantage.

In a final, intense struggle, they ended up locked together near the mesa’s edge, neither able to gain the upper hand.

Nick’s voice interrupted. “Time! The bout is a draw!”

Slowly, reluctantly, Malcolm and Larissa separated, shifting back to their human forms. They stood there, panting and covered in sweat and dust from the mesa, their gazes still locked on each other.

Larissa’s beauty struck him, even—or perhaps especially—like this, her hair wild, cheeks flushed with exertion, eyes bright. An urge overwhelmed him to reach out and touch her, to pull her close and—

“Well fought, both of you,” Nick said, stepping between them and breaking the moment. “With this challenge ending in a draw, the diplomatic round will determine our next alpha.”

The announcement sent a ripple of excited murmurs through the gathered pack. Malcolm barely heard them, his attention still fixed on Larissa.

As the pack began to disperse, heading back down the mesa, Malcolm lingered. He watched Larissa accept water from a pack member, her movements graceful even in exhaustion.

Damn, but she was something else.

“Quite a fight,” a gruff voice said from beside him. Malcolm turned to see Anders, the pack’s pragmatic voice of reason, standing there.

Malcolm nodded, still catching his breath. “Larissa’s…impressive.”

Anders raised an eyebrow at that. “High praise, coming from you. You two have been at each other’s throats for years.”

“Yeah, well.” Malcolm shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. He’d have some serious bruises tomorrow. “Maybe I underestimated her.”

“Or overestimated yourself?” Anders suggested, his tone dry but not unkind.

Anders might have a point.

Malcolm had gone into this challenge confident—maybe overconfident—in his physical superiority. But Larissa had matched him move for move, her quick thinking and adaptability making up for what she lacked in raw strength.

“You know,” Anders continued, his gaze thoughtful, “there’s more than one way to be strong. To lead.”

Before Malcolm could respond, Anders walked away, leaving him to mull over those words.

Larissa approached, a slight limp in her step. “That was…wild.”

Malcolm nodded, suddenly aware of every ache in his body. “Yeah, it was. You fought well.”

Larissa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Is that a compliment from the great Malcolm? I’m shocked.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he growled, but there was no real bite to it. “I still plan on winning this thing.”

“We’ll see. The diplomatic round is my territory.”

They stood there for a moment, and Malcolm found his gaze drawn to a smudge of dirt on Larissa’s cheek, his fingers itching to reach out and brush it away.

Before he could act on the impulse, Larissa spoke again. “You know, for what it’s worth… I think you’d make a good alpha, Malcolm.”

The admission clearly cost her something to say. “You too,” he said. “I mean, you’ve certainly proved you can hold your own in a fight.”

Larissa smiled, a genuine expression that transformed her face. “High praise indeed. But don’t think this means I’m going to go easy on you in the final round.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Malcolm replied, returning her smile with one of his own.

As Larissa turned to go, Malcolm called out, “Hey, Larissa?”

She paused, looking back at him expectantly.

“Good luck,” he said, meaning it more than he ever thought he would.

Larissa’s features softened. “You too, Malcolm.”