He sets into motion, and I dig the fingers of
both hands into his fur, clinging to him for dear life. God, how embarrassing would it be if I fell off like a six-year-old at a sideshow pony ride?
After a few steps, I’m able to catch up with the rhythm of his trot. I keep my hands fisted in his fur and my legs tucked around his barrel chest. I’m even kind of enjoying it with the wind picking up through my hair and that snow-and-pine scent drifting from the mountains ahead.
But my good mood is soured when I realize we aren’t leaving without an audience.
Lawson stands beneath the shadows of a front porch as we pass through the outskirts of the village, watching us leave with hard, narrowed eyes.
16
Ridge
It’s been a while since I last ran—the full-out sprint of a wolf with a mission or a wolf at play, sprinting through the mountains as if every hill is a racetrack.
It’s a freeing kind of run, cosmic and powerful.
When I’m on patrol, I keep my steps measured and even. It’s too easy to let the landscape slide by without seeing potential threats if you don’t stop and smell the fucking roses, as my father used to say.
My paws thud against the ground and the cool mountain wind whips past my ears. Archer and Trystan flank me, their keen gazes aware of our surroundings even as the trees and rock flash by at lightning speed. If I had to be alone in the wilderness for any indefinite period of time, I have to admit, these two men aren’t the worst backup a wolf could ask for. They’re both strong and smart. Trystan’s attitude problem makes me want to gut him with my bare claws sometimes, and Archer bears more pain than I think he realizes he lets on to the world. Between his abduction as a cub and his father’s drawn-out march toward death, he’s had a hell of a lot to deal with.
But they’re good wolves.
I worried at first that Sable wouldn’t be able to handle the speed, but once she found her balance on my back, she was a natural. Her hands are wrapped firmly in my thick fur, and her legs are clamped hard around my body. She’s so small and light I think I could carry her forever. I can feel every inch of her gorgeous, supple body pressed against me, but it’s her breath on my neck, ruffling my fur, that drives me crazy.
Amora surprised me when she found me outside the elder’s house after Sable rushed off and shoved a backpack into my arms. “For your girl,” she said with a shrug. “She can’t wear your clothes forever.”
“I like her in my clothes,” I pointed out.
Amora bared her teeth at me. “Women like their own clothes. It’s a gift. Say thank you and take it.”
“Thank you,” I said honestly, then I raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re surprisingly nonchalant about all of this.”
“Why not? You’re crazy enough for the both of us.” She grinned at me before growing serious. “We don’t have any control over the mating bond. You know it as well as I do.”
She was right—we’re both well aware.
For the longest time, the pack expected the two of us to imprint on one another and form a mating bond. When it never happened, we settled into our friendship comfortably and moved on with our lives, even as the elders bemoaned the situation. Amora is well-respected among the pack, and a mate-bond between us would’ve made perfect sense on paper. Plus, an alpha without a mate is a loose cannon, if you listen to all the old guys bitch.
“Anything I should do while you’re gone?” Amora asked. “I know the elders will run things in your stead, but anything they can’t handle?”
“Yeah. Keep an eye on Lawson,” I told her. “I don’t trust him.”
She gave me a perfunctory nod, her green eyes darkening. “You and me both.”
Even now with the wind in my fur and Sable on my back, I can’t stop thinking that leaving the pack right now is a huge fucking mistake. Lawson’s been waiting for his moment, and if he decides to do something stupid the elders won’t stand in his way. And they shouldn’t have to. It’s not their job to quell unruly members of the pack.
It’s mine.
I can only hope Amora will keep a sharp eye out for any threat he poses. Because I have no choice. The mating bond is our most sacred tradition, and we have to honor it. All of us—me, Trystan, and Archer. We have to figure out who belongs with Sable and let that bond forge. For the good of our packs and the continuation of our race.
God, what a fucking nightmare. Three of us and one of her. Regardless of tradition and honor and what’s good for the pack, the thought of one of them touching her makes my blood boil.
Having her this close to me is like pouring gasoline on a dying fire. Nothing separates us but my fur and the thin shorts and t-shirt of mine that still cover her body. The powerful way her thighs grip my shoulders inflame every instinct in me, and I’m fucking mindless with the need to shift back and claim her. Press her into the dirt right here on the side of the goddamned mountain and fill every inch of the sweetness between her legs with my cock.
But I don’t.
Because I shouldn’t.