Twenty Six year old Blake Hunter is the Alpha of the largest pack in the region. Finding his mate is the last thing on his mind.
But, in the midst of dealing with uninvited relations, aspiring future Lunas and increasing rogue attacks on his easter...
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It wasn't in his nature to run.
Alphas were strong, dependable and wise. They had all the answers. They thought through their problems with a clear head. When necessary, they made fair judgments and protected what was theirs by right.
They didn't run. They didn't falter, and they were never wrong.
He remembered all the lessons his father had taught him, all the training he'd endured and every responsibility he held on his broad shoulders. He remembered the promises he'd made to his pack the day he'd become an Alpha himself. He remembered the day he'd let them all down because of his own selfish desires.
He had faced rogues and war. Uprisings and treachery. Alliances and treaties. And he'd faced all of them with the aura of patience and duty that he had always been so proud of. The oath he'd made was one he would never break, never falter on, never fail again.
Then, he thought of her.
In the short time since he'd found her, he'd fought against himself. Against his protective instinct. Against his oath to always put his pack first and against his desire to sweep her into his arms and never let her go.
And so, he ran.
Every night he shook off his human form and let his wolf take over - flying across the terrain faster than any timber wolf could manage. Freeing his mind of the burdens he'd been carrying for so long, feeling his limbs push themselves to the limit in a joyous moment of wild freedom.
Some nights, he continued running until he'd crossed from one side of his territory to the other - revelling in the wide-open spaces where he could really push himself and the cool tempered forests where he let Rothan take over to hunt.
Other nights he patrolled the borders, often marking the entire perimeter between sun down and sun up.
He knew the patrols speculated amongst themselves about their Alpha's strange new behaviour and that the general consensus was that he was looking for someone to blame for the recent attacks.
He suspected Alex or Marcus was at the root of that rumour.
It was true in a way. Blake's anger over the breaching of his borders had been spectacular to behold. The man who never lost his temper, never gave up that cool, calm exterior, had stood in the centre of the training grounds the following morning and challenged each and every warrior present.
Beasting them all with training exercise after training exercise and barely allowing them to recover from one before starting another. They'd trained until the sun disappeared behind the tree line and none of them could stand up straight.
Marcus and Alex had stood by his side all day, grim looks on both of their faces as they cowed any warrior who was foolish enough to complain.
No attack had ever penetrated so deep, or done so much damage as this one had. There had been no fatalities this time, but it wasn't from lack of trying and Blake blamed himself more than anyone for being lenient with their training in the last few months.
