Page 6 of Malcolm (The Sunburst Pack #1)

M ALCOLM SAT IN THE pack’s makeshift library, a converted storage room in a warehouse—nicknamed the Old Packhouse—surrounded by towering stacks of books.

The musty scent of old paper filled his nostrils, mingling with the faint smell of wood polish and leather. Sunlight streamed through the single window, dust motes dancing in the golden beams, illuminating titles on strategy, leadership, and pack law.

Maybe Larissa had the right idea, buying her own books.

Then again, no human bookstore carried the volumes on pack law.

Malcolm rubbed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the page before him. The words swam, refusing to make sense.

Damn it , he thought, frustration building in his chest. Why is this so hard?

Malcolm had always been more comfortable with action than study. Give him a physical challenge, and he’d excel.

But this felt like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. He was twelve years old, standing in the schoolyard with the other shifter children. Their strategy teacher, Mr. Harding, was explaining the rules of a new game—an exercise designed to mimic pack politics.

“Okay,” Mr. Harding said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “Your goal is to form alliances, negotiate treaties, and ultimately become the dominant pack. You have one hour.”

Malcolm was confident. He was strong, popular. Surely he’d win easily.

But as the game progressed, Larissa outmaneuvered him at every turn, weaving a complex web of alliances that left the other students scrambling to keep up.

In the end, Larissa emerged victorious, her “pack” the undisputed winner.

Malcolm was left with only two allies, betrayed and outplayed by a girl half his size.

Malcolm pushed the book away with a snarl, the legs of his chair scraping against the wooden floor as he stood.

He needed air, needed to move.

He stalked out of the library, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The Old Packhouse creaked around him, as if sharing his restlessness.

Outside, the late afternoon sun warmed his skin, the fresh air clearing his head somewhat.

Almost without conscious thought, his feet carried him toward the training grounds. The sound of exertion and the thud of bodies hitting the ground reached his ears before he rounded the corner.

At its center, a group of younger pack members were engaged in combat practice. Malcolm recognized Owen, the young wolf he and Larissa had helped in town, grappling with another boy about his age.

As he approached, Owen managed to flip his opponent, pinning him to the ground.

A smile tugged at Malcolm’s lips. Now this, this I understand.

“Good form, Owen,” he called out, his deep voice resonating through the clearing. The young wolves immediately stopped their sparring, turning to face him.

“Malcolm!” Owen grinned, helping his sparring partner to his feet. “Want to show us some moves?”

For the next half hour, Malcolm lost himself in the rhythm of physical training. He demonstrated takedowns, blocks, and strikes, his body moving with the fluid grace of a predator.

This was where he was confident, where he knew his worth.

As he corrected Owen’s stance, Malcolm caught Larissa’s scent, and his head snapped up when she entered the clearing.

She moved with easy confidence, a stack of documents tucked under one arm. The late afternoon sunlight caught in her hair, highlighting strands of gold among the brown.

Malcolm’s throat went dry.

Pull it together , he chided himself. She’s your rival, not your…anything else.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” His voice came out sounding gruffer than he intended.

She raised an eyebrow. “I do leave home occasionally. Even when I’m prepping for competitions. Unlike some, I don’t need to cram at the last minute.”

The jab stung, hitting too close to his earlier frustrations. Malcolm bristled, opening his mouth for a sharp retort, but Larissa continued before he could speak.

“Actually, I’m glad I caught you. I have some information about the upcoming hunt challenge you should see.”

She held out a document, and as Malcolm reached for it, their hands brushed. It was the briefest of contacts, barely a whisper of skin on skin, but his body vibrated as if he’d been struck by lightning.

Time seemed to slow, every detail of Larissa highlighted in his mind. The softness of her skin. The slight calluses on her fingertips, testament to hours of writing and study. The way her pulse fluttered at her wrist.

He imagined those hands on his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Sliding up to cup his face as he leaned in to kiss her. Tangling in his hair as they…

“Malcolm? Are you even listening?” Larissa’s voice snapped him back to reality.

Malcolm blinked, realizing he’d been staring at her hand like an idiot. A flush crept up his neck, and he hoped she didn’t notice.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, taking the document and pointedly not looking at her face. “Just…thinking about strategy.”

“Really? Because it looked an awful lot like you were woolgathering. You do realize how important this is, right? The hunt isn’t just about tracking and taking down prey. It’s a test of leadership, of using your pack’s strengths effectively.”

Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water, reigniting his earlier doubts.

She’s right , he thought bitterly. I’m not prepared for this. Not like she is.

But Malcolm had never been one to back down from a challenge. He stood tall and met Larissa’s gaze with a confidence he didn’t quite feel. “I’m aware of what’s at stake, Larissa. Don’t worry about my preparation.”

He gestured to the young wolves, who had paused in their training to watch the exchange with undisguised interest. “In fact, I was just working on some combat techniques that could be useful during the hunt. Care to join us?”

It was a deflection, and they both knew it.

But to Malcolm’s surprise, Larissa nodded. “Why not? It’s been a while since I’ve had a good sparring session.”

As they moved to the center of the clearing, Malcolm watched her intently. The way she moved, all controlled power and grace. The slight sheen of sweat on her skin as they began to circle each other. The intensity in her gaze as she watched for an opening.

They came together in a flurry of movement, testing each other’s defenses. Malcolm had the advantage in raw strength, but Larissa was quick and cunning. She slipped past his guard more than once, landing stinging blows.

As they grappled, her nearness once again distracted Malcolm. And more than once, it cost him the upper hand.

Finally, sweeping her feet out from under her in a move that was equal parts skill and luck, Malcolm managed to pin Larissa to the ground.

They lay there, both panting heavily, their faces inches apart. Malcolm was suddenly acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched.

For the span of a breath, the world fell away.

There was only this moment, this connection.

The urge hit Malcolm to close the distance between them, to taste her lips, to…

With a surge of strength, Larissa bucked her hips and flipped them, reversing their positions. The spell broken, she quickly rolled away and got to her feet.

“Not bad,” she said, her voice slightly breathless. “But you let yourself get distracted. In a real fight, that could be fatal.”

Malcolm stood, brushing dirt from his clothes and trying to regain his composure. “Yeah, well, it’s not often I have such a…challenging opponent.”

Larissa’s eyebrows rose at the near compliment, but before she could respond, Owen’s voice cut in.

“That was awesome!” the young wolf exclaimed. “Can you show us that last move again?”

For the next hour, Malcolm and Larissa worked together to instruct the younger pack members, demonstrating techniques and offering advice.

Despite the lingering tension between them, Malcolm enjoyed the impromptu training session. They made a good teaching team, he realized—his strength and combat experience complemented her attention to detail.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the clearing, the young wolves began to disperse.

This is what being alpha is really about , Malcolm thought as he watched them go. Nurturing the next generation, building a strong pack.

“They’re a good group,” Larissa said, coming to stand beside him. “Lot of potential there.”

“Yeah. They’ve been through a lot, but they’re resilient.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the whisper of wind and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.

Finally, Larissa spoke. “I should go. Got more preparations to make.” She hesitated, then added, “Don’t stay up all night studying, Malcolm. A tired alpha is no good to anyone.”

With that, she turned and walked away. Malcolm watched her go, conflict roiling in his chest. She was his rival, the greatest threat to his bid for alpha. But she was also…something more.

As her figure disappeared into the gathering twilight, Malcolm shook himself. You’ve got work to do , he thought. The library waited, its books full of knowledge he needed to absorb.

But as he headed back to the Old Packhouse, Malcolm found his mind drifting back to the touch of Larissa’s hand brushing his, the feel of her body beneath him during their sparring match.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face.

This alpha competition was getting to be more complicated than he’d ever imagined it would.