Page 17 of Violet Moon (Pitch Mountain Pack #1)
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The Crooked Creek Pack’s territory consisted of acres of rolling hills surrounded by dense forests.
The pack had been on this land for generations and they generously allowed the Pitch Mountain Pack to share some of it once a month.
It was the price to pay for being a city pack without much land and they were grateful their closest friends and neighbors allowed them space during the full moon.
That month they’d be shoved into an even tinier corner of their territory to give Jason the room he needed, but it would still be more than enough for their small pack.
The Crooked Creek Pack house was made of stone and stood like a formidable castle at the top of a hill. At thirty-eight members, their numbers were far greater than that of Sera’s pack and while not all of them lived in the house, many of them did.
Alpha Clyde was a brick wall of a man, sturdy like his home, but friendly and welcoming.
He clung to his heritage and traditions, both as a human and as a wolf.
The only exceptions he made were for rules that no longer had a place in this world, but even those had taken much arguing and physical fighting to finally let go.
His relationship with Parisa began poorly.
Female Alphas were rare and when they did appear, were not, under any circumstances, allowed to lead their own packs, according to werewolf tradition.
They could, with the help of an Alpha male, run a pack together.
That was Clyde’s version of progress, which Parisa would not accept.
When their tiny pack arrived, he offered to absorb them into his, with some stipulations.
Parisa had a counteroffer and she fought him until, bloody and bruised, they each learned to respect the other.
“My friend!” Clyde clapped Parisa on the back with enough force to make anyone else pitch forward, but Parisa stood firm. “How has the last month treated you?”
“It’s only been a week since I last saw you.”
“Yes, but that was business. And short. We didn’t even eat together! A damn shame. We’ll make up for it tonight. Got a feast prepared.”
“You don’t have to go out of your way every month.”
“The hell I don’t! What kind of host would I be if I didn’t even treat my fellow wolves right?” His gaze turned to Sera. “Speaking of which, Beta Seraphine, I trust you’re doing well?”
She didn’t even waste the breath reminding him that she’d just been here recently as well. “Can’t complain.”
“But complaining is good for the soul.” He laughed, the sound rumbling up from his chest and shaking his shoulders. “It gets all the nasty energy out so you’re unencumbered from then on. Well, at least until you need to complain again.”
“I’m sure we’ll find nothing to complain about here. We never do.”
“You’re much too kind, always so kind. I’ve got to see to the last of dinner preparations and table setting, you know it has to be —”
“According to tradition.” Clyde’s Beta, Gabriel, grinned behind him. He waved at their guests, smile bright and cheerful.
Clyde spun his head around. “Well of course we’re following tradition. We’re not animals. We’re werewolves. Now shut the sass and keep working. We’ve got company.”
The feast was nothing short of magnificent. Even for Clyde, this was above and beyond normal expectations. Sera wasn’t sure if there was some historic werewolf holiday she’d forgotten about or if he was celebrating the arrival of a new Alpha, but whatever the cause, everything was perfect.
Sera tried to focus on stuffing herself full before the moon hung high in the sky, but her attention was constantly drawn to the new Alpha. Jason’s once-scrawny frame had filled out since she last saw him and he had a wild look in his eyes that made her feel unsettled.
Jason ate like he was starving, his eyes locked on Parisa the entire meal.
It made the hairs on the back of Sera’s neck stand up.
She did her best to ignore him and focused on the way her pack and Clyde’s fit together.
The room was filled with loud laughter and conversation.
If Parisa could sit beside her and chat with Clyde and his Beta as though Jason wasn’t staring holes into her skin, then Sera could, too.
Besides, there was too much to look forward to.
Sera tingled with anticipation. Her hands were jittery with nerves.
The full strength of the wolf was near. She drummed her fingers on the table and she tapped her toes on the hardwood floors beneath her feet.
It didn’t help that Parisa was seated next to her at a table so filled with werewolves that they kept bumping elbows and Parisa’s knee kept touching hers.
Sera did her best to keep up with the conversation, but she was overheating for more reasons than just the approaching full moon.
Parisa kept shooting her glances and Sera couldn’t tell if she was being scolded for shaking too much and not hiding her excitement or if Parisa was amused and just as ready as Sera to be let out into the night.
As the sun set, Clyde sent his pack in one direction while he and Gabriel brought Parisa’s pack to the other end of their land.
There were no stables in which to strip down.
Tradition dictated that the human side invited the wolf to emerge in the fresh air, surrounded by nature.
Facing the forest, the pack rid themselves of clothing and took their last human breath before power surged through their veins and reshaped them.
Parisa took off running and Sera followed, the rest of the pack right behind her.
She darted between trees and dashed over the fallen leaves and dirt, her paws scarcely touching the ground.
Her pack yipped and panted as they kept up, racing one another and tackling their closest friends before catching back up with the rest. Sera pounded her feet into the ground in an effort to stay with her Alpha.
As a human she preferred to be around Parisa. As a wolf she was compelled to be at her side.
Parisa radiated strength, speed, and power. Sera rose to the unspoken challenge, coming up beside Parisa and brushing their sides together as she attempted to overtake her. Parisa growled, bared her teeth, and effortlessly increased her speed.
Behind them the pack kept up, but the further they descended into the depths of the forest, the less Sera could hear anything but the sound of their paws on the ground, their panting breaths, and the little yips and growls that slipped out from their mouths.
Parisa came to a sudden stop in Sera’s path.
Sera skidded as she tried to slow herself but she still bumped into her Alpha, eliciting a rumbling but playful growl from the other wolf.
Parisa nuzzled into Sera’s neck, nipping at the exposed fur there.
She backed away and Sera dipped her head in deference before she bounded over and did the same, bumping their sides together and burying her muzzle in thick brown fur.
Her Alpha leapt back and reared up on her hind legs, teeth bared but no malice behind them. She jumped forward and came down with a front leg stretched across Sera’s spine. Sera whipped her head around and nipped at Parisa’s fur.
Their pack caught up with them. Some of them panted for breath while others played, trying to tackle each other.
Wolves played and werewolves did, too. Size and a dash of humanity did nothing to change the fact that bonding was essential for survival and, for many of them, much easier to do when they were wrapped in fur and not all their human insecurities.
Under the full moon, friendships deepened and connections between wolves grew stronger.
For an Alpha and Beta, the full moon was a chance to strengthen their bond and remember how in sync they could be when removed from human pressures.
Sera and Parisa circled one another, both ready to pounce.
Parisa curled her lip, showing her teeth in mock aggression, and Sera prepared to strike.
The moment she jumped into the air, Parisa let out an excited yip, briefly falling out of her fighting stance before she sprung into action.
Sera was never fast enough to catch Parisa off-guard and this was no exception.
In seconds, Parisa had her pinned to the ground with a paw pressed firmly against her chest. Parisa licked the tip of Sera’s nose and jumped away, ready for another round.
She knew she could never truly win against her Alpha, but that wasn’t the point.
It was enough to let the wolf run free, to let her howl, bare her teeth, and try to nip her Alpha’s thick, dark brown coat.
No matter how many times she lost, there was joy in it.
From the way Parisa vaulted around the area and yipped with delight, Sera knew the feeling was shared.
All around her, Sera’s closest friends, her family, her pack ran and played with the same delight she felt.
Even Jo, who had a complicated relationship with their wolf, was running off into the night, limbs flailing as they looked back to check if Wilma was following.
She wasn’t far behind, ripping up the ground as she tore through the forest to catch up with Jo.
Edgar was off in the creek with Emmaline, splashing anyone who dared come too close.
The entire pack was buzzing with energy.
No one was immune from the freedom they all felt in this moment.
The night wore on and Sera’s thinking mind faded away until there was almost none of the human in her left. The last thing she remembered was a fresh kill trapped between her teeth and the pride bursting in her chest when she dropped it at the feet of her Alpha.