You’re crouched by the river’s edge, tightening the straps on your boots, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your chest. Tonight’s your first real hunt with the pack. Not just scouting or shadowing Suguru like a pup under watch—tonight, you’re running with them. A true part of the team. But the nerves still crawl under your skin.

You sense him before you hear him, the shift in the air and warmth at your back unmistakable. Satoru. Your alpha. His presence always hits like a pressure drop, something heavy and electric that sinks right into your spine.

“You ready, pup?” Satour muses, his voice is casual, amused even, but there’s an undertone to it. Something more serious beneath the easy drawl.

You glance over your shoulder at him. He’s dressed in black, sleeves rolled up, hair half-tamed and pushed back from his face. The last rays of sun cast a halo of silver around him.c

“I think so,” you answer. “Unless I’m supposed to wrestle the stag barehanded.”

Satoru chuckles, a low sound. “Please don’t. We need it in one piece.”

He steps closer, boots quiet on the pine needle floor. You stand automatically when he reaches you, eyes tracking him even though you don’t fully understand why. But something in your wolf stirs—an instinct that knows better than you do. Then he’s standing in front of you, tall and close, and his smile fades just enough to make your breath catch.

“Hold still,” he murmurs.

Your pulse kicks up, but you obey. He leans in, the tip of his nose brushing along your jaw. It’s soft, almost reverent. You feel his breath on your skin. Then, with a slow exhale, he drags his scent across your neck—behind your ear, along your throat, then again down to your shoulder. His hands ghost your waist, steadying you. You shiver, biting down the instinct to lean into it.

This isn’t new. He’s scented you before—light touches before you go into town, casual brushes of his wrist to your pulse point when strangers are near. But this? This is something else. He’s layering it in thick and full, claiming you in a way no one can mistake.

When Satoru draws back, his eyes are wolf-bright and burning.

“There,” he says, voice lower than before, more real. “Now if anything tries to touch you out there, they’ll think twice.”

“Overkill?” you joke, trying to cover the way your heart thunders.

Satoru gives you a grin, all sharp teeth and affection. “No," Satoru says. "Insurance."