Page 13 of Bronx

“Hey,” Steele said, his kind yet commanding voice coming through the speaker. “I know you’re reluctant to take a mate, but I want you to come to dinner tonight at Mom’s house. Mila’s cooking.”

Anxiety rose like bile in Bronx’s throat. He had always been hesitant when it came to the idea of a mate, fearing the vulnerability that came with such a connection. But loyalty to his pack and Steele compelled him to listen.

As the wind picked up, swirling around him and tugging at his hair, Bronx considered his options.

“You know how I feel about taking a mate,” Bronx said. “But…I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, cuz. Seriously—I think this woman might be just what you need.”

Yeah, right.

As the call ended, a sense of dread crawled over Bronx’s skin. The idea of meeting this Cora intrigued and terrified him in equal measure, sending shivers down his spine despite the warmth of his thick flannel shirt.

He raised his gaze to the clear blue sky overhead, searching for some semblance of clarity amid the tumultuous emotions roiling within him. Would meeting this woman be the answer to the questions that plagued him? Or would it only serve to complicate the life he had built for himself as head guardian of the Moonstone Pack?

I’m not avoiding meeting her just because of the scars, he told himself. The idea of taking a mate had always been a source of anxiety for him; as head guardian, his responsibilities were vast, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle the added challenges of a relationship. But at the same time, his loneliness was impossible to ignore.

In an effort to clear his mind, he decided to shift and go for a run in the woods. That was the only time he truly felt like himself, his wolf form allowing him to escape the confines of his human body. He ventured into the forest, each step bringing more and more peace to him.

The transformation came naturally, his body shifting and morphing until he stood on four legs. As he sprinted through the trees, he tried to focus on the rhythm of his paws hitting the ground, the rush of wind against his face, and the pure, unadulterated freedom that coursed through him.

But try as he might, his thoughts kept drifting back to Cora. What would she be like? Would she understand the demands of his position in the pack? Or would her presence only serve as a distraction, pulling him away from his duties? Could she accept his physical scars, the limp that only seemed to disappear when he took on his lupine shape?

The questions swirled in his mind, fueling his run even as they threatened to overwhelm him. For the first time in a long while, Bronx felt truly vulnerable.

As he slowed his pace, panting heavily from the exertion, he wondered if this was what it meant to be truly brave. To embrace the unknown, to face one’s fears head-on, and to trust that something good might come of it all.

“Maybe,” he thought, his breath visible in the cold air as he contemplated the path ahead—both the literal one and the metaphorical one. “Maybe Cora really could be the answer I’ve been searching for.”

And with that thought in mind, he turned back toward the lodge.

That evening, Bronx stood before the mirror in his room at the lodge, running a hand through his hair and adjusting the collar of his shirt. His eyes held a hint of apprehension, betraying his otherwise stoic demeanor.

“Get it together,” he muttered to himself. “It’s just a dinner.” As he left the lodge, he concentrated on meeting Cora.

Steele’s mother’s house loomed ahead, a modern yet cozy structure nestled among the trees. As Bronx approached, the door swung open to reveal Mila. She greeted him with a welcoming smile.

“We’re so glad you could make it,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “And that Clarissa let us borrow her kitchen tonight, since our house isn’t ready yet.” She grinned as Bronx moved past her.

“Where is Aunt Clary tonight?” Bronx asked.

“Having dinner with Justine and Amelia—a sisters’ night out.”

Bronx rolled his eyes. Of course his own mother was in on the plan.

Inside, the house was filled with laughter and soft chatter. Ivy sat beside Ryker, who playfully nudged her with his elbow. Steele presided over the gathering, his gray eyes reflecting both his authority and his kindness.

“Hey, Bronx!” Ryker called out, raising a glass in salute. “Glad you could join us.”

“Hello, all,” Bronx replied, taking a seat and trying to appear relaxed. But beneath the surface, his thoughts raced, as he was eager and anxious to talk to Cora.

The conversation flowed around him, touching on pack matters and shared stories. Ivy spoke softly about her new life in Moonstone, while Steele and Ryker bantered about their latest adventures. Through it all, Cora’s absence pricked at him.

Where is she?he wondered. What was taking her so long?

Surely she wouldn’t stand him up.

Right?

---