Page 1

Chapter

One

" S omeone's coming. Someone who smells like bad decisions and regret."

The wolf inside Mia Lee stirred, her spirit's voice cutting through the morning training session like a blade through silk.

"You're imagining things. And how many times have I told you not to speak to me in public?" Mia muttered under her breath, watching Danny struggle with his form.

"I'm your wolf spirit. It's my job to prevent you from making mistakes."

"Shut up."

"Twice."

"Wolf!"

"All right, I'll shut up. But I'm not the one whose heartbeat just did a triple axel just thinking about his scent."

"We will talk about it tonight. Now, just shut up and go away, wolf.

I mean, you can't go away because you're in my head.

But just shut up for the day, will you?" Mia's eye twitched—a tell-tale sign to anyone who knew her that she was having a full conversation with her inner wolf. "Oh no, come on Danny!"

The teenage werewolf before her contorted his face into what had to be the least intimidating growl in the history of their species. His attempt was so pathetic, a butterfly landing on his nose would have been more threatening.

She caught the scent of his anxiety—sharp and acrid—mingling with the earthy pine of the training clearing. Then it hit her. That other scent.

Pine smoke and storm-charged air, with undertones of leather and something uniquely, maddeningly familiar.

Her stomach performed an Olympic-worthy gymnastics routine.

"That's not your wolf face, Danny. That's your 'I forgot to do my homework' face," she drawled, forcing her voice to remain steady as she crossed her arms. The cool autumn breeze ruffled her dark hair, carrying more of that achingly familiar scent that absolutely was not making her knees weak.

"Try again. Feel it in your core, not your facial muscles. "

Danny's shoulders slumped, the fabric of his worn t-shirt rustling. "How would you know what a proper shift feels like? Everyone knows you were a deadline wolf."

The words should have stung, but Mia had heard worse. She allowed just enough alpha energy to flow into her gaze, making her eyes flicker with golden authority—a trick she'd learned only after her first successful shift. The shift that had required... No. Not going there.

"How to survive becoming a proper werewolf 101." Mia kept her expression neutral, shoving down memories of strong hands guiding her through her first transformation, of whispered encouragements against her ear. "Respect and listen to the alpha in front of you."

"But..."

"Do you understand pack order? Yes or no? Because if you don't, why bother? I can reject you right now and send?—"

"Please don't, Mia! Sorry, it was my bad. Just the guys kept talking..."

"About my past?"

"Yes..."

"Wrong answer, Danny." She stepped closer, letting her power ripple through the air between them. "You're supposed to say, 'What matters is now. You are my alpha. Period.' Other wolves are jealous of you because I accepted you and train you as my beta, not them."

"Yes, Mia, I'm sorry."

"Try harder. And Danny? Next time someone brings up my deadline days, remind them I went from psychology practice to pack leader in one shift. Let's see them match that."

The snap of a twig pulled her attention to the clearing's edge where Gerald appeared, his weathered boots crunching over fallen leaves. Her aging beta's usually stoic expression carried an edge that made Mia's stomach drop faster than a lead balloon in a swimming pool.

"He doesn't know," her wolf observed with wicked glee. "Oh, this is going to be interesting."

"Let me guess," Mia said, dismissing Danny with a nod and trying to ignore how her skin prickled with awareness, like static electricity before a storm. "The Council of Elders couldn't wait another week to bring this up?"

Gerald cleared his throat. "They've set the date for the Mating Challenge." His fingers tightened around the folder he carried. "Three weeks from now, during the blood moon."

"How wonderfully traditional of them." Mia's tone could have frozen hell over and still had ice left over for Satan's margarita. "I assume they've already started accepting applications from every available alpha within a hundred-mile radius?"

"Seven applications so far." Gerald's gaze dropped momentarily to the folder. "Alpha Matthews from the Northern Pack seems particularly... eager."

"Of course he is." Mia ran a hand through her hair, fighting the urge to growl. "His pack has the largest territory but the smallest numbers. I'm sure having our pack under his control has nothing to do with his sudden interest in my sparkling personality."

"Eight applications," her wolf corrected smugly. "Want to bet who lucky number eight is?"

Gerald stepped closer, his voice softening. "You've done remarkably well as our first female alpha, Mia. The pack is stronger than ever."

"And yet here we are, following the same old rules. You're pimping me out." The words came out sharper than intended, but honestly, what century were they living in?

"No, Mia, but mating is the most sacred ritual of the packs. You know that. They have to prove they're worthy of you. Of your attention."

"Fine, fine. I'll do it." Just the thought of mating with some alpha she didn't care for made her chest ache like someone was performing surgery without anesthesia. "They want a show? They'll get one. Let's put on a circus of testosterone-fueled dominance displays. Maybe I'll sell popcorn."

Gerald's eyes crinkled with concern. "Mia... I know that look. Whatever you're planning?—"

"What? I was just thinking of adding some party games. Maybe a nice round of 'Pin the Tail on the Alpha'? Or 'Musical Mates'—when the music stops, whoever doesn't have a chair gets eliminated?"

"This isn't the time for innovations." Gerald lowered his voice. "The Council is watching your every move. One misstep, one challenge to tradition, and they'll?—"

"Vote me out faster than a reality show contestant?" The joke fell flat as memories of Gerald's daughter surfaced—the price of tradition and pride. She softened her tone. "I know, Gerald. I know what's at stake."

"You're the best alpha this pack has seen in decades," he said softly. "But you need to secure your position first. Then you can change things."

"Fine." She threw her hands up in dramatic surrender. "I'll play nice. No crazy schemes, no revolutionary changes. Just good old-fashioned mate-fighting. So, tell me about these wonderful suitors. Anyone likely to bore me to death before the challenge even begins?"

Gerald pulled out a small notebook. "Well, Alpha Matthews snores loud enough to wake the dead?—"

"Excellent start. Okay, give me the list. I'll review it. Make sure there are no weirdos even my wolf can't handle."

"Oh honey," her wolf laughed, "we both know there's one weirdo we can't handle, and he's already on that list."

Gerald nodded, handed her the list, and walked away, disappearing among the trees like a ghost who'd just delivered the worst news possible and didn't want to stick around for the explosion.

Mia finally looked at the list Gerald had left. Her fingertips traced over the heavy parchment, each name making her body react involuntarily.

Alpha Matthews - Northern Pack. Her nose twitched like she'd smelled expired milk.

Alpha Thompson - River Valley Pack. She sneezed. Twice.

Alpha Chen - Mountain Ridge Pack. Her left eyelid spasmed in what could only be described as morse code for "absolutely not."

Her eyes continued down the list, each name representing a political alliance, a strategic move, a future of polite dinners and zero chemistry. Then she reached the last entry, written in fresh ink that seemed to burn through the paper straight into her retinas.

Jim Mirakles.

"There it is," her wolf said softly, for once without sarcasm. "The name we howl in our sleep."

The world tilted off its axis. Her claws extended involuntarily, puncturing the paper where his name mocked her with its familiar loops and curves.

One year, two months, and fifteen days of learning to breathe without him, and he'd entered her Challenge like it was nothing.

Like he hadn't shattered her into a million pieces and left her to reassemble herself in the dark.

"No." The word came out as a growl that would have made Danny's earlier attempt look like a kitten's mew. "Absolutely fucking not."

"Yes," her wolf countered. "Absolutely fucking yes. You feel it too—the pull, the need, the?—"

"SHUT UP!"

The birds scattered from nearby trees at her outburst, probably gossiping about the crazy alpha talking to herself again.

Mia yanked out her phone with enough force to crack the screen protector. Within seconds, two familiar faces appeared in a three-way video call.

"I sense blood!" Beatrice winced, her sandy waves of magnificence dancing around her shoulders.

It didn't matter how hard she tried, Beatrice could never look like a proper witch.

She was too beautiful, too perfectly put-together, like a supermodel who'd accidentally wandered into a spell shop and decided to stay.

"I see fire," Jasmine commented, her sultry voice able to melt butter from three miles away and probably seduce it too. The afternoon sun caught the highlights in her dark hair, making her look every inch the dangerous ex-FBI agent she was.

"I'm being auctioned off like some prize breeding stock," Mia announced without preamble. "Three weeks. Mating Challenge. Seven testosterone-poisoned alphas fighting over me like I'm the last piece of bacon at a breakfast buffet."

"And the best part?" Mia continued, pacing hard enough to wear a groove in the forest floor. "If I don't play along, I might as well hand over my alpha status right now. Maybe I'll open a food truck instead. 'Mia's Midnight Munchies—We Deliver to Your Den.'"

"Mating challenge problem?" Jasmine arched an eyebrow with the precision of someone who'd perfected the art during vampire interrogations.

"How do you know?" Mia asked.

"It's tradition, everybody knows, Mia. Plus, you're doing that thing where your left eye twitches in rhythm with your wolf's sarcasm."

"Did you know Jim's name is on the contestant list?"

"No way!" Beatrice and Jasmine chorused, their combined shock creating a harmonic frequency that probably shattered wine glasses at Vines & Soul.

"Yeah, one year, two months, and?—"

"Fifteen days, six hours, and approximately forty-three minutes," her wolf supplied helpfully. "Not that we're counting."

"You're scared, Mia," Jasmine deadpanned with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

"No. Why would I be scared? I didn't twist his arm into this. He made his choice when he vanished like a magician's assistant, except the trick was my heart disappearing too."

Tears gleamed in Beatrice's eyes. "You still love him!"

"Not helpful, Beatrice," Mia growled. "My feelings aren't the issue here. Not only is he not pure blood, he wasn't even born a wolf. What chance will he have against pure-blooded alphas? They'll tear him apart like a chew toy at a puppy party."

"Why do you care if he gets hurt?" her wolf asked innocently. "Unless..."

Jasmine nodded sagely. "Definitely still in love. Despite everything."

Mia jabbed her finger at the air like she was poking invisible enemies.

"Yes, I'll take the 'despite everything' part.

Jim Mirakles cannot assume he can walk away and come back whenever he wants like I'm some kind of supernatural convenience store.

Open 24/7 for your emotional needs. I'll make sure it doesn't happen.

I'll make sure he's off the list. I can veto anyone on this list. I can disapprove him?—"

She could see the look on Jasmine and Beatrice's faces—the same expression people get when watching someone try to push a door marked 'pull.' Even her spirit wolf sighed dramatically.

"What?"

Jasmine cleared her throat, which was never a good sign.

It was the throat-clear of doom, the precursor to news nobody wanted to hear.

"Normally yes, you as alpha can make important decisions in your pack about anything, really.

Except this one. Except when it comes to your mate or alpha challenges.

It's a matter for the Supernatural Supreme Council. You know, it's like?—"

"I can't make the law and enforce the law too. Checks and balances." Mia nodded, her mind already racing. "But there has to be a way around the council. I'll make sure that happens. I'll take him off the list."

She hung up before either friend could point out the obvious flaws in her logic. People had told her shifting was impossible after being a deadline wolf her whole life. Here she was—not only could she shift, she was an alpha in her own right.

Surely getting one infuriating, heart-breaking, storm-scented werewolf removed from a list would be easier than defying a lifetime of supernatural biology.

Right?

"Wrong," her wolf sang. "So very, very wrong."