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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Every pack had its own link. A communications network that allowed the wolves to exchange information across huge distances and in wolf-form.
There were three different links within the vast, closed network. The first; a practical close-proximity link used by wolves within eyesight of one another. It could only be used across short distances, creating an illusion of privacy, but could be picked up by any other wolf in the same, small area - much like overhearing a spoken conversation. It was also this link that allowed the wolves to talk to one another, at their human's discretion.
A second, more intimate link forged automatically between mates; it helped to seal the bond between them and was linked inextricably with their emotions. Not even the Alpha could eavesdrop on such a private connection.
Most importantly at this moment, the third; the main pack link, was universal. Used as an emergency broadcast system it could be heard by each and every pack member at the same time. It was this link that the five wolves tuned into now - directly connecting them to whichever voice had activated it; spreading a warning quickly and efficiently throughout the pack.
Hannah watched the frozen wolves, panic slowly working its way through her body. "What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, searching their blank faces for clues.
Sky remained frozen, her mouth half-open, fear etched across her face. Penelope's stance had changed to reflect her uncertainty - unconsciously seeking a defensive posture even as her eyes remained glazed and unfocused. Sarah sat with her eyes closed, concentrating on the link - a frown replacing her previously passive expression.
Somebody talk to me! Hannah screamed inside her head; her self-assurance shattering under the strain.
"I don't know," Sarah murmured. "They're all talking at once."
Hannah watched her anxiously, chewing on her bottom lip as the old lady sifted through the panicked calls from the pack. A flicker of irritation crossed Sarah's features, and she gripped the cane tightly in one hand.
A sudden, deep rumble lifted Hannah from her scrutiny. Like bursts of distant thunder, it echoed through the room, fraying her already tattered nerves. As soon as one burst stopped, another would start. Startled, she looked around for the source of the noise and realised both males were growling - an automatic and primal response to the unseen danger.
Eric's deep baritone resonated against the walls of the room, accompanying Barnaby's softer pitch to create a harmonised rumble of discontent. The sound only heightened her internal panic. The pack was under attack, they had to be.
"There's trouble at the border," Aunt Sarah confirmed grimly, standing up and straightening out her skirts.
Penelope unfroze and swiftly turned her furious face towards Hannah, twisting her features into a mask of pure hatred. "You-" she started, but the mass of voices started clamouring again and her eyes widened suddenly. Abandoning Hannah, she turned towards her mate instead - reaching out to clasp his hand in hers.
