Then he’s off, charging through the underbrush!
I follow, dashing through the trees in pursuit.
Where the hell does he think he’s going? Our territory leads to remote, treacherous mountains. Only a lunatic would traverse the peaks without proper gear or familiarity with the terrain.
The forest’s earthy aroma fades as I focus on tracking my prey. Enhanced eyesight allows for easy maneuvering between the towering trees. Getting closer. My senses zero in on every snapping branch or panted breath.
This is where I belong, not battling in an arena. In the wild, all sinew and certainty. A hunter, not the hunted. I know this terrain.
The intruder won't escape.
I zigzag through the underbrush, cutting him off and gaining ground. I hear a muffled curse, and a grin spreads across my face. Just a little closer...
My muscles coil and I pounce, tackling him to the ground. We hit the earth hard. Several bruises earned during my earlier fight protest, but I grit my teeth and pin him beneath me, hands braced against his shoulders. He bucks and writhes, trying to throw me off. Even in the darkness, I catch the sharp angles of his face, framed by tousled dark hair.
Our eyes meet. Time seems to freeze.
His gaze is intense, smoldering with a barely contained ferocity. What if he resists? Will anyone hear if I yell for backup? What if—His body goes slack beneath me. The tension crackling in the air dissipates while we both pant in the darkness.
"Alright, alright," drawls the man under me, sounding surprisingly composed. "I surrender."
~
Wynn
Adelaide and I stand side by side as she glares at the stranger in the dungeon cell. Torchlight casts shadows on her murderous face.
"Why have you trespassed on my territory?"
The stranger lounges against the stone slab that passes for a bed, seemingly unfazed by Alpha ferocity.
“Terribly sorry about that,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “Got a bit lost after all the excitement. I only started running because your friend here”—he gestures at me—“chased me.”
“You were heading into the forest instead of following everyone else out,” I remind him.
“Must have had too much to drink.” The stranger laughs sheepishly, still acting like this is one big misunderstanding.
Nope, not buying it. He seemed alert and sober when he ran from me and no lingering stench of alcohol clings to his breath.
"This has to be cruel and unusual punishment," the prisoner complains as he looks around at our gloomy surroundings. "Are you trying to torture me?"
He isn't wrong there. These dungeons have seen better days, reeking of mildew and forgotten sins, with water trickling down stone walls worn smooth by time. We don't even use these cells anymore. Any drunk and disorderly spectators are tossed in the Concordia jail or given to their pack or coven for disciplinary measures. The old medieval-style dungeons under our territory hold grim, bare cells with rusted bars from centuries of disuse.
"Sorry if the accommodations aren't to your liking," Adelaide says, sounding rather pleased about his misery.
"You guys really know how to treat a guest." The stranger swats at a cobweb that droops down above his head.
"You aren't a guest," Adelaide growls.
"We have nowhere else to put you," I admit, and the wolf beside me elbows me hard in the ribs. Ouch. "Uh, our dungeons aren’t needed anymore and we never replaced them. Nobody's stupid enough to break in."
The captive slowly rises. He saunters closer, seeming completely at ease despite the bars and the cold, unforgiving stone walls trapping him. His chestnut hair is styled in a messy,punk-rock way, with shaved sides that highlight his angular jawline. A series of small silver hoops line his left ear. With those tight ripped jeans and a dark faded band tee that clings to his toned torso, he’s nailing the ‘edgy rock star just released from rehab’ look.
If we’d met in a bar, he looks exactly like the kind of irresistible temptation I’d regret in the morning. Piercing blue eyes framed by long lashes flick up to meet my gaze, and a slow, mischievous smile spreads across his lips when he catches me watching. I drag my eyes away quickly.No ogling the prisoners, Wynn.
Adelaide tenses beside me, zeroed in on his every move like he might pounce and attack.
The man only leans down and inspects the bars of his cell. “This won’t hold me."
