Jane |18+| ✔️

3. The time she unknowingly entered the wolf's Den

Silas

Crotched, I peer down at what many classify as a sleepy, distinguished mountainous town. From high above, I find myself here often. A place to think, strategize and prepare – to be alone and not be hassled every bloody minute of every day. With the early evening about to fall and the sun all but set, the sky is a swirl of colours I never tire of. Blues, pinks, and oranges with a purple dusting surround me from my snow peak oasis.

My mind is abnormally cluttered with many thoughts regarding the overall welfare of this town, the impending Swinish Spawning, and all the chaos it will undoubtedly bring. It will be here soon, sensing the shift in the disposition when it comes to my kin. They're becoming antsy and beginning to stake their claim well before it commences. Although my resolve is steadfast – being the Alpha – my immeasurable-sized pack continues to question my adversity to partake in fucking till our heart's content. It's a celebration of the beast that prowls within us. The animalistic need to chase, bite, claim and fuck like there is no tomorrow.

It's intense and wild – and usually short-lived. Anything goes... so long as you remain temporarily unmarked. The second a male or female sinks their canines into you, you are off-limits – whether you want to be or not – saved only for the predator to do as they wish. It doesn't always end well, as many prey tend to put up a stink and well, lives have been lost. It's the cycle of life, they say. Our pack has practiced this tradition for centuries, and as Alpha, I allow it as it is the wish of my people. Granted, despite my authority and influence, it's not like I could stop it. It's an entity far more prominent than me - than anything. It's raw, organic and imperishable.

However, it's not my thing. However, the urge to participate is there – it's virtually impossible to avoid. The minute the sun lowers below the horizon, it becomes a frenzy of sex-starved wolves over the age of eighteen. No one knows why or when it began—it just is. Many believe it's how shifters used to procreate; others see it as a hall pass – a night to sow your oaks away from your mate. It personally makes zero sense to me, but then again, my betrothed mate thought differently and ended up dead picking the wrong wolf to mark.

To be honest, I was relieved. I didn't want to be mated to her anyway—and had no aim of it ever getting to that point. It was negotiated as her dying mother – who I respected and wanted her daughter tamed and linked to my family name, and I desired to rule the last of the northern packs – which I now do. Regardless, I had zero intention of my cock ever coming near the adventurous she-wolf that preferred females over males. It was a perfect match until she fucked it up days after the arrangement was made. Mercifully, her mother followed through with her word and signed her pack to me before she met our Creator. Now I'm back to avoiding the ritual like the plague, as I have for the better part of a century.

Call me old-fashioned, but the desire to partake in such traditions is now considered monotonous. I've been there, done that, and the lustre is worn. Because of my waning feeling, my urge to fuck during the Swinish Spawning is controllable. My strength and tenacity are unbreakable. As a matter of fact, my sexual need to fuck and attraction to any female diminished altogether just over two decades ago—with good reason.

Like a switch, my wolf's little tendency to hunt and indulge in meaningless sex flicked utterly off. There's no desire or hunger toward anyone—until recently. I have noticed he's been acting weird for the last few days. Constantly stirring, whimpering and pacing back and forth in my mind—urging me toward my southeastern border territory.

That's how I found myself in my den – his place. It wasn't my plan to return to Sweetwater for another month, but his unrelenting clout and insistence made it impossible to ignore. But even now that we've arrived, he's restless and panting, snarling, wanting out, regardless of spending the last two days in wolf form. Asserting my dominance with a growl, he settles down for the moment.