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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About an hour before the rays of dawn began to filter through the trees, the forest surrounding Elmwood stirred with the first signs of life. Twilight had tinged the landscape a bluish grey, enhancing the chill of winter, and only the hardiest creatures ventured from their snug little burrows to search for food.
Below the frost-kissed pines, the fallen needles created a thick carpet that protected the ground from the worst of the winter chill, and muffled the cautious approach of the Blackridge wolves. Elmwood lay quiet, the outer edges of the territory still wrapped in a cocoon of peaceful slumber, despite the gathering threat on its doorstep.
Blake slowed to a halt a few yards from the border, one paw tantalisingly close to the invisible barrier, his nose twitching as he scented the air. A half hearted attempt had been made to reinforce the faded borderline and the Elmwood scent was now only mildly undetectable, rather than mostly absent.
There was no sign of the expected resistance.
He shook the moisture from his fur, flinging tiny droplets in all directions and shifted back into his human form, a frown of disquiet across his face and Rothan whined his disapproval, pushing back against his human's inaction. He had only one goal, and he saw no reason to delay.
Blake ignored him. As Alpha, he was forced to acknowledge the bigger picture. One step over the border and there was no going back. Blake had come here, not as a diplomatic entourage, but with an army of thirty wolves at his back. Uninvited. Hostile. The first open declaration of war between two packs since the Chaos wars.
“Well this is... disappointing,” his Gamma sniffed. “I know you said the border was weak, but this is ridiculous.”
Blake grunted, giving nothing away, but his frown deepened. He's right, he agreed silently, directing his concerns to his wolf. What kind of a pack prepares for an invasion and leaves their border so unprotected?
Weak packs have weak borders, Rothan sniffed dismissively, eager to cross over and find his mate.
Weak packs counteract their lack of dominance with a strong warrior presence, Blake reminded him. I don't see any patrols, do you? He allowed his gaze to travel the length of the forest, giving his wolf ample time to register the deserted landscape. Elmwood isn't weak. It's Syrus, he's playing games.
"Don't be fooled." Thin and scruffy, Elmwood's former heir approached the edge of the territory to confirm Blake's suspicions, his nose wrinkling as he detected the familiar scent of his home. “They want you to cross over the line."
“What good will that do?” Alex snorted. “They just made things easier for us. An inattentive enemy, is a dead enemy.”
A low whine of disquiet escaped Kaden's muzzle and Blake supressed a sigh of frustration. One of these days Alex was going to learn to keep his muzzle to himself. His piercing gaze fell upon the Elmwood wolf.In contrast with the Alpha's outward appearance of calm control, Kaden's flanks shuddered as he stared between the silent trees, his powerful muscles bunched up in tension.
