Page 8 of Malcolm (The Sunburst Pack #1)

T HE FOREST WAS ALIVE with the aftermath of the hunt.

Malcolm heard the rustling of small animals returning to their routines, the calls of birds resuming their songs. Adrenaline from the chase still coursed through his veins.

He should head back to the pack. Nick would be waiting to officially declare him the winner of this challenge.

But something held Malcolm back, a restlessness he couldn’t quite name.

And he wanted to find Larissa.

Without really thinking about it, he veered off the main path, deeper into the woods. This was his element—the wild, untamed forest that called to his wolf as surely as the moon ever had.

A new scent caught his attention, one that made his pulse quicken for reasons that had nothing to do with the hunt. Larissa.

Malcolm hesitated, warring with himself.

He should leave her be. They were rivals, after all. Competitors for the position of alpha.

And she’d run away after he’d won the competition.

But the pull was too strong to ignore.

He followed her scent, moving quietly through the underbrush. The sound of running water reached his ears, growing louder as he approached.

He pushed through a thicket of ferns and emerged at the edge of a small clearing.

A stream cut through the glade, its clear waters bubbling over smooth stones. And there, kneeling at the water’s edge, was Larissa, in her human form.

Malcolm’s breath caught in his throat. She was washing up after the hunt, her guard down in a way he’d rarely seen. Water droplets glistened on her skin, catching the dappled sunlight that filtered through the canopy. Her hair, usually so neatly tied back, fell in loose waves around her shoulders.

For a little while, Malcolm forgot about the competition, about the pack, about everything except the woman before him.

She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. There was a strength in her, a ferocity that called to something deep inside him.

Get it together , he chided himself. She’s your rival, not…

He forced his inner voice to silence before he could finish the thought.

But even as he refused to think it, Malcolm knew it wasn’t that simple. Not anymore.

He must have made a sound, because Larissa’s head snapped up. In an instant, her usual composed mask slipped back into place but not before Malcolm caught a glimpse of vulnerability that made his chest clench.

“I didn’t hear you approaching.”

He stepped into the clearing, into the tension crackling between them. “Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t, not really. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Larissa stood, brushing off her clothes with quick, efficient movements. “Congratulations on your win,” she said. “It was well earned.”

“Thanks,” Malcolm replied, moving closer. “You didn’t make it easy. That feint by the ravine? Brilliant.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Larissa’s mouth, a rare show of genuine pleasure at the compliment. “I thought I had you for a second there.”

“You nearly did,” Malcolm said. It wasn’t easy to acknowledge—he’d always prided himself on his physical prowess—but it was true. “Your strategy was solid. If I hadn’t caught that last-minute shift in the wind…”

“It was a good learning experience,” Larissa said. “Next time, I’ll—” She stopped speaking, something—embarrassment? Frustration?—flickering across her face. “Well. There’s still a long way to go in this competition.”

Part of him bristled at the implied challenge. This push and pull between them, the constant dance of rivalry and attraction, was starting to drive him crazy.

“It’s not just about physical strength, you know,” he said. “Being alpha, I mean.”

Larissa raised an eyebrow, surprise evident in her expression. “I thought that’s what you’ve always believed. That the strongest wolf should lead.”

Malcolm rubbed his hand across his face, frustrated by his inability to articulate the thoughts swirling in his mind. “I used to think that,” he said. “But after everything we’ve been through with Vincent… I don’t know. Maybe there’s more to it.”

“Just because that’s the way it’s always been—stronger wolves killing the alpha and taking over—doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.”

“And you’ve got skills I don’t,” he said softly. “The way you think, the way you plan… It’s impressive.”

Larissa’s eyes widened slightly as she was clearly caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, her carefully maintained composure slipped, revealing a vulnerability that made Malcolm’s chest tighten.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The way you led the young ones in training the other day… That was good leadership, Malcolm.”

They stood there, the sounds of the forest fading into the background as the air between them grew charged with unspoken possibilities. Malcolm found his gaze drawn to a stray pine needle that had caught in Larissa’s hair, a vibrant green against the rich brown.

Without thinking, he reached out to remove it. His fingers brushed against her hair, softer than he’d imagined.

Larissa went very still, her gaze locked on his.

Malcolm’s hand lingered, cupping the side of her face almost of its own volition. Time seemed to slow, stretching out like honey. Malcolm drank in every detail—the flecks of gold in Larissa’s eyes, the slight part of her lips, the warmth of her skin beneath his palm.

He leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. But Larissa didn’t move, her eyes flickering to his lips before meeting his gaze again.

Malcolm’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. This was Larissa—his rival, his competitor. The woman who challenged him at every turn, who pushed him to be better. And yet…

And yet he wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked.

They were so close now that he could feel her breath, warm against his skin. Malcolm’s eyes began to close, his head tilting slightly as he—

A tremendous crash echoed through the forest, shattering the moment. Malcolm and Larissa sprang apart, both instinctively dropping into defensive crouches.

Conall burst through the underbrush, twigs and leaves stuck in his unruly hair. He was grinning from ear to ear, clearly riding the high of the hunt.

“There you are!” he said, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the tension in the clearing. “Nick’s waiting to make the official announcement. But man, what a hunt! Did you see that move I pulled by the old oak? I thought for sure I had that fox, but then—”

Malcolm tuned out Conall’s excited recounting, his gaze meeting Larissa’s over the other wolf’s shoulder.

“We should head back,” Larissa said, her voice impressively steady. “The pack will be waiting.”

Malcolm nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

As they made their way through the forest, Conall’s enthusiastic chatter filled the air between them. Beside him, the occasional brush of Larissa’s arm against Malcolm’s sent burning jolts juddering through his body, though he tried to hide his response to her touch.

As they neared the clearing, the sounds of the gathered wolf shifters reached them—excited conversations, laughter, the general bustle of pack life.

They stopped to gather their clothing, and as they dressed, a pang of something like regret twisted through Malcolm.

Once they rejoined the others, this moment—whatever it was—would be over.

Just before they broke through the tree line, Larissa’s hand on his arm stopped him. Conall, caught up in his own retelling, continued walking without noticing.

“What happened back there…,” Larissa said softly, her gaze searching his face. He waited, hardly daring to breathe.

Then she stopped, shaking her head as if in silent answer to a question he hadn’t dared ask her yet.

“No,” she murmured. “Never mind. Nothing actually happened back there.”

More than anything, Malcolm wanted to dispute her words.

But she was gone before he could think of anything to say.