Chapter 2. I Refuse the Bond

Another powerful surge struck me, more violent than before. My trembling arms and legs refused to support my weight or keep me upright. I tumbled over onto my side, the ground barely cushioning my fall. Desperately, I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to stifle the deep, grinding groan that threatened to burst from my lips. My body shook uncontrollably, convulsing with the force of the change overtaking me. In that dizzying moment, I became acutely, startlingly aware of the new consciousness sharing my mind.

My jaw stretched outward, my teeth protruding and reshaping themselves into sharper points. Coarse fur sprouted through my skin, a warm rush of sensation spreading across my limbs. I felt the flick of a tail as it brushed the backs of my newly formed legs. And then, as quickly as it had begun, the transformation was complete.

I lay motionless for a heartbeat, my chest heaving as I struggled to draw steady breaths. It had actually happened. I was a wolf. All the years of hoping, of dreading, of waiting for that fleeting sense of a hidden companion—I was no longer human. My lifelong, ever-present animal friend was finally here, coalesced into a tangible being.

My mind spun as I attempted to piece together my racing thoughts. Summoning courage, I sent a tentative mental greeting: Hello?

Her response came not in words but in emotion and understanding. She’d been frightened by the process, too, but she was thrilled—overjoyed, even—to meet me as I was to meet her. I had never dared dream of such perfect reciprocity. My heart swelled with love for this creature who had always existed inside me, though I only now truly recognized her presence. I longed to pour out my entire life story, to fill her in on every heartbreak and triumph.

Yet before I could form a single thought, I realized she already knew. Every hardship I’d endured, every sorrow and every flicker of hope—she had shared them in silence. And, even more astonishing, she loved me for all that I was.

If wolves were capable of tears, I would have wept unrestrainedly in that moment, overcome with gratitude and relief. Finally, I was not alone.

Steadying our newly combined form, my inner companion flexed powerful muscles and hoisted us to our feet in one fluid motion. A quick shimmy of her hips shook the thick fur loose, fluffing it out to its full glory. My curiosity flared: I had to see how she looked.

Meeting my gaze in her reflective eyes, I watched as she lowered her head. At her chest, the fur started in a deep ebony before transitioning into snowy white at the midpoint. The tuft was longer and denser than I’d ever imagined a wolf’s coat could be—unmistakably unique.

She bent further still, glancing between her legs to follow the white stripe that ran like a ribbon along her belly. Her legs were solid black, except for three paws dipped in the same bright hue as her chest fur. Turning her head over one shoulder, I admired her sleek black back and the luxuriant tail that tapered down, thick and graceful, black above and white below. It swayed behind her in a regal arc.

Then she shook her head, sending a cascade of fur into her eyes. My mind registered an odd detail: wolves shouldn’t have hair long enough to fall into their line of sight. But there it was, unmistakably there. She was different—remarkably and wonderfully different. I didn’t care in the slightest. I had a wolf of my own, unique in ways I couldn’t have imagined—and that was all that mattered.

Without warning, her muscles coiled, and she launched herself into the air with astonishing power. We soared, hearts pounding with exhilaration. When she landed, she exploded into a sprint, her paws barely making a sound as she raced through the forest. The night had fallen, shrouding the trees in darkness, yet I saw every detail: the slender trunks, the fern-covered floor, the lantern-like glow of distant fireflies. The cold air whipped across her fur, filling my senses with its crisp vitality. I drew in a deep breath of pine and moss.

Suddenly, she skidded to a halt, nose lifted to catch a new fragrance on the breeze. Beneath the familiar scents of pine and damp earth, there was something altogether different—an essence of spice, the sharp sweetness of balsam, mingling with the berry-rich tang of juniper. Her nostrils flared. Her legs quivered in anticipation. She pawed at the ground, eager to pursue this intoxicating aroma.

What could it be? I wondered. My wolf did, too—but neither of us could ignore the compelling urge to hunt it down. In an instant, she pivoted and bounded off again, her stride even more fluid and rapid.

The narrow trail led straight to the pack house, and a rush of confusion swept through me. I couldn’t recall ever smelling anything so sumptuous there before. Within seconds, we rounded the corner of the building at full tilt—and then everything froze.

My entire body vibrated with shock as I registered the scene. No, no, this couldn’t be real. It simply wasn’t possible.

Around a crackling fire sat Alpha and his three sons, lounging easily as if they’d been sharing jokes and beers for hours. Their laughter had faded now that I’d appeared, but it was only one face that seared itself into my mind. Alpha’s eldest son—Daniel.

He shot upright the instant I stepped into the clearing, sending his girlfriend Margaret tumbling from his lap. She landed on her back, glaring at him in surprise before her gaze slowly drifted toward me, confusion quickly twisting into horror.

Daniel stood frozen, utterly entranced. At twenty-one, he was four years my senior, a man I’d only ever known through fleeting hallway glimpses at school—far more mature and composed than his boisterous younger brothers, Skyler and Chase. And in this lupine form before me, I saw him more clearly than ever.

His dark hair was tousled just so, framing piercing blue eyes that burned with a mix of shock and something else I couldn’t quite name. He wore only low-slung pants, his bare chest revealing a chiseled six-pack and a strong V-shaped line down to his hips. If I could have, I would have licked my own lips. In truth, I wondered if my tongue was dangling out in my wolfish eagerness—but thankfully, my companion snapped it back and clamped her jaws shut.

Alpha whirled toward me, eyes blazing. “What the fuck? Who—” His voice dropped to a low growl as he barked, “Shift!”

The command left me no choice. Pain shot through my limbs once more as I shifted on instinct. I collapsed onto my belly, the last vestiges of human posture slipping away. When the agony subsided, I crouched on all fours, naked and panting, my paws digging into the forest floor for support.

I looked up at Daniel, awe-struck. I had a mate—the one thing I’d never dared believe I deserved. And there he was, standing over me in perfect, breathtaking form.

Across the clearing, Chase muttered, “Dude,” his face contorted as though he’d tasted something foul. For a moment, I misunderstood his expression—shouldn’t he be celebrating his brother’s fated bond? Mates were precious, intended by the Moon itself.

Then I realized the truth of Chase’s pitying gaze, and a cold dread squeezed my heart.

Alpha’s roar cut through the night. He sprang to his feet, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. “This is not happening! I don’t give a damn what the Moon says. I am ending this right now!”

“No!” Daniel cried out, his voice sharp as a blade. “Of course it isn’t happening. But I’m taking responsibility. You can’t kill her when she’s done nothing wrong!”

My blood ran cold. He was defending me, but they were talking about killing me. I shifted my attention back to Alpha, whose eyes radiated lethal intent.

I’m going to die, I thought, my breath catching.

Daniel strode past his enraged father, each step crackling with tension. He knelt in front of me, placing a gentle hand on my bicep and tugging me to my feet. Electric sparks shot through my skin at his touch.

He pulled away so abruptly his hand seemed to burn him. Jaw clenched, voice icy, he hissed, “Elizabeth, listen carefully. This isn’t happening. You need to leave and pretend none of this ever occurred.”

Forget it ever happened? How could I—forget this? I crossed my arms, trying to cover my nakedness, my cheeks burning with shame. “But—”

He cut me off with a harsh edge to his tone. “Let me be clear. I don’t want you now, and I will not want you in the future. Do you understand?”

My wolf whimpered in my mind, her tail drooping. I choked back tears, overwhelmed by the lump in my throat. Daniel’s rejection, Alpha’s threat—it was more devastating than anything I had ever known.

Behind us, Alpha glared. Margaret slid back into Daniel’s chair, a smug smirk curling her lips. I felt a bitter laugh bubble up inside me—how could life become any more excruciating?

But I couldn’t answer. Words failed me entirely. Instead, I let my inner wolf seize control. Fur sprouted across my limbs, my spine arched, and with an anguished howl, I turned and sprinted into the night—running for my life, running from heartbreak, running until the world dissolved around me.