CHAPTER 2 - FIGHTING INSTINCT

ATLAS

On instinct, I reached out and grabbed Rose's arm, yanking her back with enough force to drag her off her feet. A split second later, the underbrush exploded in front of us.

A rogue launched out of the shadows, fast and silent until the last moment. It was massive, almost up to my chest, its eyes wild and its jaws gaping wide with saliva glinting on its teeth. The snap of its bite cut through the air like bone breaking, vicious and close—too close.

"Shift. Now!" I barked, stepping in front of her without a thought.

She didn't hesitate. I heard the distinct crack of bones breaking and reforming behind me, her breath catching as her body began to contort. The sound was brutal, familiar, and grounding in its violence.

I held my ground.

The rogue growled low in its throat, pacing just a few feet away, muscles rippling beneath its mangy coat. Its paws dug furrows in the frosted dirt, claws scraping against roots and half-frozen earth with sharp, uneven clicks. The cold had turned the ground brittle, and I could feel the give beneath my boots.

The thing didn't wait. With a guttural snarl, it lunged.

I roared, my own voice a deep, feral sound pulled from the pit of my chest. I planted my feet, twisted my body, and drove a Spartan kick straight into its chest. The impact was solid, thudding through my leg and rattling up into my spine. The rogue let out a choking yelp as it was thrown backward, limbs flailing through the air.

It hadn't even hit the ground before a flash of grey fur crashed into it from the side.

Rose.

Her wolf form was massive, all muscle and speed, and she hit the rogue like a freight train. The two of them went tumbling into the brush with a snarl and the sound of snapping branches. Leaves exploded into the air. I saw teeth, fur, and blood.

I didn't stop to watch.

I trusted her.

But something else stepped into the treeline.

Someone.

He stood just beyond the chaos, half-shadowed by the trees, as if he'd been there the whole time, watching. Silent. Smug.

Copper-brown hair, tousled and windblown. Dark eyes gleaming with that same arrogant glint I'd come to loathe.

Ciaran.

My blood ran hotter.

"Ciaran!" I shouted, my voice cracking through the woods like a whip. I didn't call him Alpha. He didn't deserve the title.

He didn't flinch.

Instead, he smirked. Slow. Mocking. Then he turned and ran.

Damn bastard.

I glanced back. Rose had the rogue pinned, her massive grey form straddling the beast, snarling, teeth snapping inches from its throat. Blood stained the snow-dusted earth beneath her. She had it handled.

I had to trust her now more than ever.

Then something slammed into me from behind.

Hard.

I grunted and staggered forward,and only caught myself based on instinct. My boots were sliding in the damp leaf litter, struggling for grip. My body twisted fast, already bracing to strike, adrenaline spiking through my bloodstream.

But it wasn't Ciaran.

The man on the ground wasn't even trying to run. He was still, coiled with tension, silver-grey eyes locked on mine with a glare sharp enough to cut through the dark.

Not just grey. No, they were too clear. Too luminous. They caught the moonlight and reflected it like twin shards of silver glass. They were shaped like a siren's eyes, meant to draw you in and drown you without a word.

He was beautiful. I'd let myself drown in him.

He lay propped up on his elbows, one leg bent slightly as though preparing to spring for any attack on my part. His bare torso heaved with each breath, his skin flushed from impact and cold. Hard muscle ran the length of him, carved and tense, the kind of strength built for lean agility, not bulk. His abs were sharply defined, flexing each time he adjusted, and across his arms, I caught the dark lines of ink—tattoos etched in bold, clean strokes, their meanings and transparency unreadable in this light.

Every part of him was sharp. Sculpted. Controlled. Yet something about him felt feral. Like he was holding back something barely caged.

He began pushing himself upright, one palm sinking into the damp forest floor. His nostrils flared, jaw tight, eyes never leaving mine. The power in the way he moved was quiet but unmistakably hot.

Shit. Maybe I should've offered him a hand. Then again, maybe not. He could be a rogue.

But goddess, please don't let me have to scar this man if that turns out to be true.

His hair was pitch black, even darker than the night sky around us. The sides were clipped clean, tapering into a longer top that now hung slightly forward, damp and tousled from either the fall or a run. A few strands clung to his temple, framing his face like they belonged there.

It shouldn't have been sexy.

But it was.

I watched his mouth move. Was he saying something?

I didn't catch it. Not a single word.

Because my gaze had already dropped to his lips. Full. Flushed from the cold. Parted slightly from breathlessness.

Two silver rings pierced the corners of his bottom lip, catching the moonlight when he talked. They gleamed with every subtle shift of his mouth, and then, just as he spoke again, probably repeating himself, something else caught the light.

A tongue ring.

It flickered, fast and sharp, just a glimpse of silver.

Heat flooded through me.

It rolled beneath my skin, slow and insistent, settling low in my gut before it twisted—hard—with every breath I forced through my lungs.

I needed to look away.

I needed to focus. Needed to not be this close to someone like him, not out here in the woods with adrenaline in my blood and my soaked shirt clinging to every line of muscle. My body was reacting like I hadn't touched another human in a year.

Too aware. Too sensitive. Too far gone.

All I could picture was his eyes locked on mine and that tongue. The piercing, gleaming and pressing against my cock as it dragged up the underside and—

No.

No. Absolutely not.

I sucked in a sharp breath and clenched my jaw, trying to shut it all down. The image. The heat. Everything in me pulled tight as I tried to rein it in, shove it back into the dark where it belonged. But my wolf—my damn wolf—growled low and steady in my mind, a sound that didn't even feel like it came from me anymore.

Mine.

It wasn't a thought. It was a fact. No logic. No permission. Just a truth spoken in instinct. I braced my hands on my thighs and exhaled hard through my nose.

No. That wasn't possible. There was no way. I didn't even know this man. Didn't know who he was, what he wanted, what side he stood on. 

But my body didn't care. Neither did my wolf. Everything inside me was already keyed into the way he looked at me. That unwavering stare. That rigid control. The fury behind his silence. The heat sparked between us despite the cold night air and my balls were starting to tingle in a way that would have my dick hard in seconds if I continued down this path of sin.

Goddess, I needed to get laid.

Rose had to be right. This had to be some kind of spiritual punishment for not maintaining a healthy sex life. No amount of physical control could compete with what my body was doing just standing this close to him.

He rose to his feet. The movement was slow, but he was still prepared to defend himself if needed. And when he finally stood at his full height, I swallowed thickly.

He was taller than me, by a good couple of inches. Easily six-seven, maybe a hair more. His shoulders were broad, his frame lean but packed with power. The kind of body that didn't just fight. It finished.

God, he'd fold so perfectly, I wanted to bend him over by that tree behind him and—

No. Focus. I scolded myself and clenched my jaw as he looked me over.

His silver eyes swept down my frame, starting at the muddy squelch of my boots and dragging slowly up the length of my soaked body. He didn't rush. Didn't flinch. Didn't even pretend not to stare. It wasn't shy but it wasn't cocky either. It was... assessing. Unapologetic, and I don't know whether I'm impressed or insulted.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

It came out more gruff than I meant. Clipped and edged, too much tension bleeding through.

His posture was set immediately. Defensive. Controlled. Not quite Alpha, but close. Close enough to make my instincts bristle and burn. I crossed my arms in challenge, letting my gaze do the same to him.

He didn't flinch or shift under my gaze like most did.

Didn't posture.

Didn't look away.

He just stood there, steady and infuriatingly calm, as if my title meant nothing. As if he'd stared down Alphas before and never once backed down.

I blinked hard. Dragged in a breath through clenched teeth. My heart refused to settle. My muscles were still locked, my body holding tension I hadn't realized had rooted so deep.

Years of training, of control, of learning to rein in the things that made me dangerous… and it was all on the verge of cracking. Shattering beneath the weight of a single man I'd known for less than a minute.

"I should be asking you that, Alpha," he said, voice low and edged with steel. "You're on Forest Pack land without invitation. That makes you a trespasser."

I cursed silently. He was right. Technically.

I needed to fix this before it escalated.

"Let me speak to your Alpha," I said. I kept my voice even, but it came out clipped.

His eyes narrowed.

"Not a chance," he replied. "I'm the Beta of the Forest Pack. And Alpha or not, it would be reckless of me to risk my people. Who are you, and why are you here?"

I tried to keep my expression stoic, but goddess, it was hard. This was Nyxan.

The Nyxan Volkova.

Up close, I could see how effortlessly he balanced masculinity and softness, though there was nothing delicate about him now. His face had grown sharper with time. The bone structure. The mouth. The presence. More masculine than the rumors painted, but the traces of beauty he once carried hadn't vanished. They'd sharpened into something harder. Unreachable. Dangerous.

I forced myself to speak, trying not to stumble over my words. "Fair enough. I am Alpha Atlas Rowen of Artemis Pack. I crossed your border while pursuing a threat. I request an audience with your Alpha to formally apologize and address an urgent concern that could not wait."

It was vague. I knew that. But I'd been caught red-handed, uninvited and dripping wet on another pack's soil. That alone was enough to start a war if it reached the wrong ears.

Nyxan scowled at me. His eyes dragged down my body again, slow, unbothered. Assessing.

And when they reached the hem of my soaked shirt, clinging to where my abs tapered down to my waist, they paused.

I felt it. That beat of stillness.

Like he'd seen too much—or didn't mind seeing more.

And I was losing it.

I had to clench my fists to keep them from twitching. My body betrayed me again, heat pooling low, sharp and unwanted. A quiet thrum that curled behind my ribs and made my breath catch.

He didn't say a word. Just glared. Tension coiling around him like smoke.

I forced myself to look away first.

Because if I didn't, I might do something regrettable.

Something that would probably end with my balls between his teeth.

The image hit fast and brutal. I nearly groaned aloud.

Self-torture. Great.

I cursed under my breath, shoving the thought aside, but the damage was done. My body already reacted in ways I didn't have time for. My shirt clung tighter, my breath shorter.

And gods help me… I was already in trouble.