Page 25 of Malcolm (The Sunburst Pack #1)

T HE SOFT GLOW OF moonlight filtered through Larissa’s bedroom window that night, casting long shadows across the floor.

She tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around her legs as sleep continued to elude her. Her mind raced, replaying the events of the past few days in an endless loop.

The pack meeting. Hannah and Gregory’s betrayal. The impending decision about the new alpha.

And Malcolm.

Always, infuriatingly, Malcolm.

Larissa groaned, flipping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. She could still feel the warmth of his body next to hers as they stood united before the pack.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, sitting up. “You’re competing to be alpha, not starring in some cheesy romance novel.”

But even as she chastised herself, Larissa couldn’t shake the image of Malcolm’s face—his strong jaw, those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through her carefully constructed walls.

She remembered the feeling of his lips on hers, passionate and demanding, during their stolen moments of weakness.

The feel of his lips elsewhere…

Larissa growled in frustration. She had worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to let herself be distracted now. The last thing the pack needed was a leader whose thoughts kept drifting to her rival’s muscular arms and slightly crooked smile.

Throwing off the covers, Larissa began to pace the length of her bedroom. The cool wooden floor creaked beneath her bare feet as she considered her strategy, all the reasons she was the best choice for alpha. Her knowledge of pack law, her diplomatic skills, her ability to see the big picture.

But with every turn, her gaze was drawn to the window.

To the path that led toward Malcolm’s house.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror, Larissa paused. She had always prided herself on her self-control, on making decisions based on logic rather than emotion. But now…

“What are you doing, Larissa?” she asked her reflection softly. “You can’t afford to be weak. Not now.”

As if in defiance of her own words, Larissa reached for clothes. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft sweater, movements automatic as her mind continued to whirl.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Larissa was out the door. The cool night air of Sunburst hit her skin, along with the scents of the desert—sage, sand, and the faintest hint of upcoming rain.

Her feet began to move, seemingly of their own accord. Larissa knew where they were taking her, even as part of her mind screamed at her to turn back.

This was madness. What was she even planning to say?

But she couldn’t deny the almost physical force drawing her toward Malcolm, toward the one person who had always pushed her, challenged her, made her question everything she thought she knew about herself.

As she walked through the quiet streets of Sunburst, she picked up on the nighttime activities of the town.

An owl hooted in the distance, its call echoing off the walls in town.

A group of younger pack members were still awake, their laughter drifting from an open window.

She heard the faint strains of music—probably from the Desert Sunrise Diner, where so much had unfolded recently.

All of it served as a reminder of what was at stake. These were her people, her responsibility. How could she even think about jeopardizing her chance to lead them, to protect them, for something as selfish as attraction?

Still, she walked on.

As Malcolm’s house came into view, Larissa’s steps slowed. It was a modest cabin, set slightly apart from the others. A porch swing creaked gently in the breeze, and a dim light shone through one of the windows.

He was awake.

Larissa approached the door, raising her hand to knock, then hesitated.

This was her last chance to turn back, to pretend this moment of weakness had never happened.

But the memory of Malcolm’s touch, the way he looked at her with both challenge and desire, spurred her forward. Her knuckles rapped against the wooden door before she could change her mind.

For several seconds, silence reigned. Then Larissa picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. Malcolm’s scent grew stronger, wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She fought the urge to close her eyes and lose herself in it.

The door swung open, revealing Malcolm in a pair of low-slung sweatpants and nothing else. His hair was tousled, his eyelids heavy. Larissa’s gaze involuntarily traced the lines of his muscular chest, noting the way the moonlight played across his skin.

“Larissa?” Malcolm’s voice was husky with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

She opened her mouth to speak, to explain her presence with some logical reason.

But as she met Malcolm’s gaze, all words fled. The intensity of his gaze, the barely concealed desire there, stole her breath away.

She was tired of fighting this, tired of denying the pull between them. With a low sound that was more wolf than human, she stepped forward and pressed her lips to Malcolm’s.

For a split second, he tensed in surprise. Then, with a groan that echoed through Larissa’s very core, Malcolm responded. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against his body as he deepened the kiss.

Larissa lost herself in the sensation. Malcolm’s lips were warm and demanding against hers, his stubble scratching deliciously against her skin. She tangled her fingers in his hair, luxuriating in its softness as she pressed herself closer.

The kiss was everything she had been denying herself—passionate, all-consuming, aflame with a fever that burned through her entire body. It was a battle and a surrender all at once, neither of them willing to cede control entirely.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Larissa’s head spun, leaving her dizzy with want. She stared up at Malcolm, and a primal part of her preened at having put that expression of pure need on his face.

“What are we doing?” Malcolm breathed, his voice rough with desire.

It was a loaded question, one that brought reality crashing back down around them. Larissa stepped back, suddenly aware of where they were—on Malcolm’s porch, in full view of anyone who might pass by.

“I… I don’t know,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about everything—the pack, the alpha decision, you…”

Malcolm’s expression softened, and he reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. The gentle gesture nearly undid Larissa’s composure entirely.

“Come inside,” he said softly. “We should talk.”

Larissa nodded, following Malcolm into the warmth of his home. The interior was simple but comfortable, with bookshelves lining one wall and a large, well-worn couch dominating the living room. It smelled of him—that amazing blend that made her wolf want to roll over and bare its throat.

Malcolm gestured for her to sit on the couch while he disappeared into the kitchen. Larissa perched on the edge, her body still thrumming with energy from their kiss. She heard the click of the stove, the soft clink of mugs. A few minutes later, Malcolm returned with two steaming cups of tea.

“Chamomile,” he said, handing her one. “Seemed like we could both use something calming.”

Larissa accepted the mug gratefully, wrapping her hands around its warmth as Malcolm settled into an armchair across from her.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, sipping their tea. Larissa struggled to find the right words, to explain the maelstrom of emotions that had driven her here tonight.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, staring into her mug. “I shouldn’t have come here like this. It’s not fair to either of us, not with everything that’s happening.”

Malcolm set his tea aside, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, she raised her gaze to meet his. The intensity there made her breath catch.

“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “I’m glad you came. We can’t keep dancing around this…whatever it is between us.”

“But the pack—”

“Will still be there in the morning,” Malcolm finished for her. “Right now, I think we need to be honest with each other. And with ourselves.”

Larissa set her own mug down, straightening her shoulders as if preparing for battle.

“Fine,” she said, a hint of her usual sharpness returning to her voice. “You want honesty? I’m attracted to you, Malcolm. More than I’ve ever been to anyone. And it terrifies me.”

Malcolm’s eyebrows shot up at her blunt admission. “Why does it scare you?”

Larissa stood, needing to move as the words poured out of her. “Because it complicates everything! We’re supposed to be rivals, competing for the good of the pack. I can’t afford to be distracted by…by feelings .”

She spat the last word out like it was distasteful, pacing the length of Malcolm’s living room. Her wolf was restless, wanting to run, to howl.

Malcolm watched her for a few seconds before standing as well. He approached slowly, as if afraid she might bolt.

As if she was a wild animal.

When he was close enough to touch her, he stopped.

“Did you ever consider,” he said softly, waiting to continue until she met his gaze, “that maybe these feelings aren’t a distraction? That maybe they’re showing us something important?”

She couldn’t answer. But she was done waiting, done denying the sizzling current that crackled between them.

With a swift motion, she pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him back onto the sofa. Malcolm’s eyes widened in surprise, but before he could react, Larissa straddled his lap and captured his mouth in a searing kiss.

His lips were firm yet pliant against hers.

Larissa’s mind reeled. This is madness , she thought. We’re supposed to be rivals, not…this.

But her body had other ideas. Her tongue swept into Malcolm’s mouth, exploring and tasting. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her.

“What—” Malcolm breathed when they briefly parted for air.

She silenced him with another kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair.