Page 2 of Ours (Mating Run #5)

Cole ran, lungs burning, heart slamming against his ribs, but his mind raced just as fast.

He'd grown up around werewolves. Everyone had, ever since the world had changed, since humans and wolves had learned to coexist. In the city, they blended in—looked just like anyone else.

No claws, no fangs, no wildness bleeding into polite society.

But even in their human skin, they were different.

That effortless confidence. That quiet knowing. Like they never second-guessed themselves, never hesitated. They wanted, and they took.

It unsettled him. It thrilled him.

Maybe that was why he was here. Because he wanted to know what it felt like to be the focus of that hunger. To have someone see him, want him, and not hold back.

Not like Marcus. The memory flickered—Marcus pulling away with that familiar look of irritation. "Can't you see I'm busy?" Because what Marcus gave was never enough. Measured doses of affection, carefully rationed, like Cole was something to be managed rather than loved.

A howl rose behind him, closer than before, and fear overtook everything else.

They were coming.

The wind carried the scent of damp earth, decaying leaves—and something else. Something rich and musky, animal. It wrapped around him, thick and intoxicating, making his body react despite the terror flooding his system.

Another howl split the night, pleased and predatory. The forest shifted around him, branches clawing at his arms. A woman's scream rang out somewhere to his left—not terror, but something raw and wanton that made his stomach clench with want and shame in equal measure.

More voices joined hers—gasps, growls, broken cries. A chorus of submission. The wet sounds of claiming echoed through the trees, skin slapping against skin, desperate whimpers that made Cole's cock twitch despite his terror.

Christ, they weren't even trying to be quiet about it.

Cole's imagination ran wild against his will.

Bodies pressed into the forest floor, strong hands pinning wrists above heads, teeth marking throats.

The sound of someone being taken, hard and demanding, their cries muffled by leaves and dirt.

He could almost feel it—rough bark against his back, claws digging into his hips, the brutal stretch of being claimed by something wild and hungry.

His breath hitched, heat crawling down his spine. This was what he'd signed up for. This raw, primal need. Not Marcus's careful, measured touches, but something that would consume him completely.

Heavy footfalls closed in. Cole caught glimpses of other runners darting between trees, pale flashes of skin swallowed by darkness. But they were veering away, being pushed in different directions.

And he was being driven deeper. Alone.

A low growl rumbled to his right, deep and vibrating through his chest. Another answered from his left, cutting off his escape.

They weren't just chasing him. They were herding him. Two of them, working in tandem, isolating him from the others.

Shit—

He surged forward, the only direction left open. His foot caught on an exposed root and he crashed down, leaves and dirt scraping against his palms. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs.

Behind him—so close now he could feel their heat?—

Another growl. Deep. Certain. Satisfied.

They had him.

Cole twisted onto his back, gasping. The forest had transformed under moonlight—no longer familiar, no longer safe. Towering trees stretched like prison bars, casting shadows that blurred reality with fear.

A massive form prowled through the trees. Jet-black fur rippling over corded muscle, the sheer size enough to send every instinct screaming. Then another shape moved in from the opposite direction—mahogany coat gleaming like burnished copper in the moonlight.

Cole scrambled back until bark pressed against his shoulders. His mind fought to understand what he was seeing.

Two wolves. Both focused entirely on him.

He flinched, waiting for the snarling to start. Everyone knew werewolves were supposed to be possessive as hell—territorial, aggressive. They didn't share. Ever.

But the wolves just prowled closer.

One dark as night. One rich as autumn fire.

They moved in perfect synchrony, muscles flexing beneath thick fur as they advanced. Like they'd done this before. Like they'd hunted together.

No growling at each other. No snapping teeth or raised hackles.

What the fuck?

Cole's pulse hammered as his brain tried to process it. Two apex predators, cooperating instead of tearing each other apart over prey. Over him.

The black wolf huffed softly, and the copper one's ear twitched in response. Some kind of communication Cole couldn't understand. An agreement already made.

Like he was prey they'd already decided to… share?

The thought sent heat rushing through him, confusing and wrong and impossibly arousing. This wasn't how the hunt worked.

They circled him, closing the space inch by inch. The black wolf moved with contained power, every shift of muscle smooth and commanding. His companion mirrored him, leaner but no less dangerous, the two locked in silent rhythm.

Cole could feel their eyes on him, cataloging every tremor, every hitch of breath. Reading him like a book.

He should've been fighting, should've been trying to escape.

Instead, he found himself swaying forward, waiting to see what would happen.