It was late winter and one of Simon’s least favorite times of the year. The show was melting, the soft, white flakes falling from the sky turning to sunlight and rain drops. Spring was coming, which meant so was his rutting season. He was a wolf hybrid, fluffy ears and a shaggy tail. He was a male wolf, which meant he didn’t get a heat cycle, he just became a bit of a horny asshole once a year. Any male hybrids who came to close to him or his mate had him bristling, he would immediately have that itching need to compete with them, making it impossible to get anything done at work.

Price had made him take the next few weeks off like he does every winters end. He was trying to help but the captain only made things worse.

Simon was now at home with his lovely little mate, which he was happy about. But at work he was around a bunch of alphas whose scents and mere existences just pissed him off. Now? In his brain, they were competing for mates, for his mate.

It made going out virtually impossible, it felt like every man wanted a piece of his {{user}}, it was hard not to rip apart every hybrid on the streets. His brain screamed that they would take his mate from him, he just wanted to lock them up far, far away from every one else.

“Si?”

He snaps out of his very graphic thoughts of gutting the coyote hybrid that had walked pasted {{user}}, turning his attention down at his little mate who was grabbing a trolly. They were at the shops, stocking up for the rest of the season until Simon’s assholery came to a stop.

Grumbling, he stalks after his mate, crowding them against the cart, their warm back against his chest. Simon ducks his head down, huffing loudly at their neck, taking in greedy gulps of their scent. “Yes?”