Page 32 of Alpha Unbound

He runs a hand through his hair. “I walked in and saw you handling it. Holding your own. I didn’t want to step on that—not when you were already burning the room down. But if I’d gotten there a minute earlier, I might’ve ripped Eddard’s throat out on principle.”

I cross my arms. “And instead, I felt like I was standing trial for existing.”

Hudson steps closer. “You held your ground.”

“Damn right I did.”

There’s a beat. Then he says, “Come for a run with me.”

I blink. “What?”

“Run with me. Shift. Clear your head.”

I hesitate. We’ve never run together before, not like this. But the offer is sincere. And something inside me is aching—tight and restless, like my wolf wants out.

So I nod.

We head to the changing lodge tucked behind the compound—an old cedar-sided cabin built for moments like this. No one says a word as we step inside and undress in separate curtained corners, the space filled with the scent of pine, aged wood, and anticipation.

I fold my clothes carefully, feeling the hum of my wolf just beneath the surface, already itching to run. When I step outside, he’s already there.

Hudson’s wolf is massive. Dark. Powerful. His paws crunch softly over fallen leaves, each step deliberate, weighty. The scent of pine and damp earth clings to him, threaded with something uniquely his—warm musk and wild energy, grounding and magnetic all at once. He stands at the tree line, golden light catching in his coat, eyes locked on me. I nod once, letting the shift come—and everything changes.

We run.

We chase nothing and everything. The wind. The silence. The hunger between us. Our wolves streak through the underbrush like shadows made of muscle and intent, slipping between trees, kicking up pine needles and frost. I leap over a moss-slicked boulder and land beside him, our flanks brushing. He growls, playful but edged.

Our wolves brush and circle, not just playful—testing. The snaps of our jaws are near-silent flirtations. He darts left, and I follow, nipping his flank before veering off in a taunting curve. He catches up, pacing me stride for stride. It’s not just movement. It’s communication. Challenge. Trust.

His coat brushes mine again, this time staying close. I feel his energy ripple through my skin, an unspoken question in the cadence of his steps. And I match it, letting my wolf lean into his orbit, giving him my answer. We run not as two creatures, but one rhythm—wild, primal, bonded even before the bite.

At some point, we slow. Our bodies stay close.

We shift back at the base of an old ridge, breath hitching as bones morph and fur recedes. It’s always a shock, that return to skin and silence. Our bodies steam in the cool air, slick with sweat and mist. A wooden bench sits under a nearby pine—one of the supply spots the pack keeps stocked. A folded blanket. A clean set of clothes. Thoughtful… or maybe planned.

I grab the blanket and drape it around my shoulders, tossing Hudson a towel from the stash. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, not once. He’s still on one knee, breathing like a man who's run too far and found something worth collapsing for.

The woods are thick with shadows now, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered.

My breath hitches. “What happens now?”

Hudson steps in, slowly, deliberately. His voice is rough. “Now I give you one last chance to walk away.”

I tilt my chin up. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Something clicks into place as I say it—not defiance, not pride. Just clarity. I’ve spent so long bracing for fallout, expecting abandonment. But right now, with his eyes locked on mine and every muscle in my body humming like it’s waiting for a storm, I know exactly what I want. And I’m done pretending otherwise.

The moment snaps.

His mouth crushes against mine—hot, hungry, unrelenting. I meet him with teeth and tongue, pulling him closer, clawing at his back as he presses me into the earth. Every inch of him is all muscle and command.

My teeth brush against his lower lip; my breath fans sharp against his skin.

“Show me this is more than a primal urge,” I murmur.

“If we cross this line, there’s no undoing it. To claim and mark you as my mate is to change everything.”

“I know,” I whisper.

---