Page 122 of Pistols & Peonies

Ella’s mouth drops open on a gasp, something wounded flashing across her face. I should probably feel bad for how that landed, but I don’t. Because Violet deserves more than conditional love. She deserves the fucking world.

The low hum of an engine draws the crowd’s attention toward the parking lot, gravel crunching as a sleek black car pulls up to the curb.

Perfect timing.

“Excuse me,” I say, not waiting for a response as I guide Violet away from her mother, my hand settling at the small of her back.

We make it to the curb right as the rear door opens, Alpha Gage emerging from the car like he’s stepping onto a stage. He lives for these full moon runs– the posturing, the flex of his control. The captive audience, ready to eat up whatever he’s serving.

He gives me a nod of acknowledgement, then steps past, me and the other high-ranking enforcers falling into formation behind him as he greets the pack. Violet remains at my side, the two of us presenting as a united front while Alpha takes command of the crowd with a few brief opening remarks. Then he starts down the path into the woods, everyone scrambling to follow.

Chatter rises around us as we tread the path, the pack’s excitement building with every step. Violet and I exchange a few glances, but we don’t say a word as we follow the flow of foot traffic. The sooner we get through this, the sooner we can let our wolves out, forget the bullshit, and just run.

When we reach the clearing, Alpha takes his place in the center, and I claim my usual position on his right with Violet beside me. The other enforcers line up at our backs and the pack fans out around us, anticipation building as Gage launches into his usual pre-run address.

I mostly tune it out. I’ve heard this speech too many times, about the energizing power of the full moon and the importance of running beneath it together to promote pack bonding. Instead, I focus on the warmth of Violet’s body beside mine, my hand resting loosely on her hip, her citrus and peony scent grounding me in a way nothing else can.

But of course, Gage promptly steers the conversation in our direction, never one to miss out on a PR opportunity.

“As we all know,” he says smoothly, gesturing toward me and Violet, “our last Pairing was a tremendous success. Just look at Commander Kane and his new mate.”

He pauses dramatically, giving me a loaded look as Violet goes rigid beside me.

I know what he wants. We both do. And the path of least resistance is to play along.

I turn toward her, bringing my hands up to frame her face, forcing her to focus on me rather than our rabid audience. “One little kiss?” I murmur under my breath, gazing into her eyes intently.

We discussed this beforehand. Prepared for it. But the choice is still hers, and I’ll accept whichever one she makes, consequences be damned.

She clenches her jaw, defiance blazing bright in those baby blues, even as she leans into me. “Fine,” she grits out, lifting her chin.

Her eyes slide closed, lips brushing mine, and I yank her in even closer and kiss her hard. It’s meant to be a performance, but the second her lips part under mine, it stops being about anyone else. Violet melts into me, arms winding around my neck, head tilting to deepen the kiss. The pack erupts into whistles and applause, but it all fades to static. All I register is the heat of her body, the glide of her tongue, the taste of her lips.

We’re both breathless when we break apart, Violet’s cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. I sweep my thumbs over her cheekbones, holding onto the moment as Alpha launches right back into his speech, evidently satisfied with our public display of affection.

“We’re still accepting applications for the next Pairing, so any eligible females–”

It all just fades into background noise. My eyes stay locked on Violet’s, our hearts racing in tandem, our wolves peeking at one another through our irises.

Time ceases to exist.

“Let’s run!” Alpha calls, and the world around us crashes back in.

I blink as sound, scent, and movement return in a rush, finding Gage already stripping out of his suit to a chorus of cheers from the pack. He shifts quickly, his massive wolf bursting free from his skin. His howl tears through the clearing, and the energy ripples outward, clothes hitting the ground as the rest of the pack rushes to join him. The air shimmers, bones crack and realign, howls rise.

“Ready to run, Commander?” Violet asks, a teasing lilt to her tone as she peels her tank top off over her head.

“Oh, I’m ready,” I growl, dragging my own shirt off.

My pants barely hit the ground before my wolf shoves his way forward, the shift rolling through my body in a familiar wave. The world fractures and reforms– sound sharpening, scent exploding, instinct taking command– and the second he’s free, he goes straight to her.

Violet’s wolf is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Sleek black fur, bright blue eyes rimmed with silver. We collide in a rush of movement and heat, circling tight, brushing and nipping, perfectly in sync. The bond hums bright and alive between us, stronger and steadier than ever.

We break into the trees with the pack, shadows and moonlight blurring together as the forest opens around us. The start of the run is always chaotic, the world a blur of scent, sound, and motion all sharpened to a razor’s edge under the full moon’s pull. But even in the frenzy, I feel Violet through the bond– the pulse of her excitement and joy, the way her wolf wants to play and tease and be chased.

I let her lead at first, nipping at her heels, then catch up and shoulder her gently off-course just to remind her who’s in charge. She snaps back immediately, teeth flashing, ducking low and weaving through the brush with quick, agile turns.

There’s nothing else in the world like this feeling. The wild freedom, the way we move together, the knowledge that even with a hundred other wolves in the woods, there’s only one whose heartbeat matches mine.