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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Dishevelled, dirty, and gripping the last shreds of his patience firmly between clenched teeth, Blake stalked the deserted pack house. The scent of the comings and goings of a hundred wolves flowed through the halls, all melding together in an almost indistinguishable soup. His eyes tracked the signs of a life recently abandoned; plates loaded with half-finished food, trays full of still-warm cups of tea hastily discarded, and a still-flowing tap at one of the sinks – the water steadily making its escape down to the tiles below.
Room after room, he encountered nothing but the absence of wolves; the only evidence they had ever been occupied, layer after layer of foreign scents until finally, his sharp nose encountered a familiar, if unwelcome, aroma that drifted up into the recesses of the house. A medley of bracken, tobacco and iron.
Macleiry, his wolf spat, claws kneading against their shared consciousness.
Kaden had remained in the hall, staring silently up at the elaborate paintings lining the walls; a fairytale of a loving family memorialised in oil paint and gilded frames.
Blake offered him a cursory glance, his attention fixed on Macleiry's trail. “You okay?”
“I'm fine.” The young Alpha straightened up, a closed expression on his face as he looked around the home he'd not set foot in for so long. With a grimace, he gestured towards the shuttered entrance to the main hall. “In there?”
The scent flowed freshest around the heavy oak doors, pooling at its base, and Blake nodded tersely. In there.
But instead of heading towards them he left the young Alpha to wander the lower floor, a sudden compulsion leading his feet upwards. Macleiry’s scent guided him through corridors towards the back of the house where his nose caught a faint scent; the unique, muddy aroma they'd been searching for shrouding a subtle perfume of apples like a velvet cloak.
Rothan’s demeanour changed instantly, the tension gripping their shared conscience like a vice melting away to be replaced by an undercurrent of unexplainable excitement that raised the hairs on his bare arms. Hannah.
Blake closed his eyes, concentrating on filtering out all but her smell. The tension drained from his muscles as it filled his lungs, tantalising and full of promise, rendering him motionless as he tried to capture every atom before it faded away. Goddess! So quickly had he become accustomed to her strange scent, it had taken its sudden absence to realise how much of a calming influence it had become in his life. A primal sense of longing began to creep through him, all he had to do was track the scent and –
A creak of a nearby floorboard snapped him back to reality, instincts kicking in as he raised his hand, ready to attack. His eyes snapped open to glare at the intruder with dark eyes, recognition taking its sweet time as he fought to bring order to his fractured thoughts.
