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“Are you sure?”
The voice startled me, and I jumped as Bowen appeared behind me.
“Oh, my Goddess! Where did you come from?”
And how did you move so silently?
His smirk was playful. “I’ve been here the whole time. I wonder what has my sweet, skittish mate distracted.”
“I’m not distracted,” I lied.
“Good, because we’ve made it,” Silas announced. “This is the best spot for a run in the entire territory.”
The air buzzed around us. Though no one said the words out loud, we all knew this was a special moment.
Our primal wolf halves would see this run as confirmation of their matehood. When wolves ran together, it was an intimate experience. It was a show of vulnerability and trust, and it allowed us to build deeper connections. It was similar to when our human sides talked and shared experiences. During the run, they would learn from each other and bond on a level our human halves couldn’t fully comprehend.
They craved that closeness.
A low chorus of growls erupted as I started to pull off my shirt. I paused, and the reality of where I was slammed into me.
I could smell their desire and taste arousal in the air.
I knew my next decision would determine my fate.
I let my shirt fall.
Chapter 8
Gentry
Nothing about this was proper. Shifters were rarely affected by nudity. It meant nothing to strip down in front of your packmates and go for a run. However, there were a few unspoken etiquette rules. The first was that males didn’t gawk at the females’ bodies.
That rule didn’t seem to matter as my unit mates stood frozen, watching our little Omega strip. Every inch of skin she revealed directed blood to my cock. It was an effort not to go to her as my body demanded—not to cover her in my scent and warn off any male who thought to claim her.
Theron cleared his throat, and we all snapped into action, removing our clothes to prepare for the shift. My wolf paced impatiently. The incomplete bond with his mate was putting him on edge.
I felt the frustration of all my unit’s wolves through our bond.
The suggestion to run as wolves was not only meant to get Myla comfortable with us. It was also a way for our wolves to maintain some semblance of balance.
Normally, when a shifter found their fated mate, they would immediately mark and claim her, solidifying their bond. The longer the human half waited, the more restless the wolf became.
They didn’t have the same reservations as us. They didn’t understand the human emotions that came with mating—especially when one’s mate was a stranger. For them, it was simple. Their mate was theirs. They were whole when brought together.
The shift was quick—blazing fire, the sharp snap of bones, and the cold burn of reconstruction.
I shook my muzzle and extended my front paws, stretching my new limbs. Silas’s brindle-colored wolf swished his tail as he scampered around.
A small golden wolf chased him in circles, mirroring his excitement.
Mate.
My wolf’s voice was a purr.
I trotted toward her, and she instantly pushed into my space, sniffing and pawing at every inch of my wolf. My wolf puffed out his chest, enjoying the attention from his mate.
He inhaled her natural sweetness and committed her lush scent to memory.
