Chapter 015 Fractured Control
Julian paced the length of his quarters, boots thudding against the worn wooden floor. Every creak of the pack house settling grated like nails on slate. Scents assaulted him—roast from the kitchens, sweat from training wolves, the faint tang of pine drifting in from the open window. Too much. All of it too sharp, too insistent, with the full moon hanging heavy in the sky even during daylight hours.
His wolf paced right alongside him inside his skull. Restless. Hungry. Prowling the edges of his control, golden eyes fixed on one thing.
Quinn.
She'd taken over his office that morning. His desk. Claimed it for some network setup bullshit, legs folded under her in his chair like she owned the place. Shoes kicked off—bare feet probably tucked against the chair legs now. He'd walked in intending to kick her out. Alpha's space. Off-limits.
Then she'd glanced up, grey eyes sharp behind those damn glasses, pink hair knotted up with a pencil like she was in some hacker cave. "Problem sharing?"
Words had jammed in his throat. Now she hammered keys, fingers flying faster than should be possible for fragile human bones. That Led Zeppelin tee—vintage, faded—had a tear at the collar. Just a small rip. Barely anything.
Except it bared a strip of collarbone. Pale skin. Smooth.
Mine.
The wolf surged, claws scraping mental ribs. He clenched his jaw, tasting blood from where his fangs nicked gum. She'd been at it all morning. Teasing. Little brushes of contact that lit fuses he couldn't afford. Fingers grazing his when she passed a report. Shoulder nudging his arm in the hall. Worst: reaching up to straighten his collar, knuckles sliding along his neck. Hot. Electric.
He'd almost snapped then. Pinned her to the wall, mouth on that collarbone, wolf howling victory.
"Hey. You okay?"
Her voice yanked him back. She'd twisted in the chair, head cocked, that half-smile tugging her lips. How long had he been looming in the doorway? Staring.
"Fine."
"You've been staring at me for like two minutes."
"Wasn't staring."
"Okay." Smile widened, eyes dancing. "Contemplating the wall behind my head, then. My bad."
A growl rumbled out, low and involuntary. Her eyes lit up. Satisfaction. She knew exactly what she was doing, poking at his fraying edges. Testing.
He spotted the plate on the desk corner. "Brought you food," she said, casual as handing over a cable. "Irene mentioned you skipped breakfast."
"Don't need—"
"Turkey sandwich. No tomatoes—I remembered." Back to her screen already, like memorizing his quirks was nothing. Bread looked a bit stale. "You'll live."
Chest tightened. Food offering. Pack meant it as care. Submission, even. No one did that for him. Not since... Mom, pup days maybe. Morgana? She'd schemed for power, not sandwiches. Pack cooks assumed Alphas fended for themselves.
Quinn noticed. Remembered. Cataloged him like code. Wolf thrashed. She provides. Cares. Ours. Claim.
"I'm going for a run."
She glanced up. "It's one in the afternoon."
"Need air."
"Julian—"
He was gone, striding through halls. Wolves flattened against walls, noses twitching at the crackle rolling off him. Alpha on edge. Full moon brewing. Smart ones scattered.
Oak at yard's edge. Clothes shed in a pile. Shift ripped through him—bones lengthening, fur sprouting, paws hitting dirt. Head thrown back. Run.
Wind whipped fur. Pine needles snapped under pads. World sharpened: earth rich and loamy, squirrel chatter distant, heart pounding thunder. Harder. Faster. Miles blurring.
Her scent clung anyway. Not on skin—sweat and forest drowned it—but memory. Clean sweet, edged warmer. Deeper. Invaded everything. Yesterday he'd buried his nose in his shirt, chasing echoes. Pathetic.
Madness.
Wolf snarled denial. Madness is restraint. She wants. Smell it. Arousal spikes. Pulse races. Ready.
He'd pulled back every time. Human. Elders would riot. Luna? Pack would fracture—tradition over outsider pink-haired glitch. Morgana seemed perfect once. Betrayal's knife still twisted.
Skidded to halt at rocky outcrop. Chest heaved. Valley sprawled below, greens and golds indifferent. She'd like the view. Code the patterns maybe.
Stop.
Couldn't. Woke thinking of her—working through breakfast? Trained imagining her watching, critiquing his forms with algorithms. Nights alone, hard and aching, her sounds in his head—
Twig snap. Ears flicked.
Coleman melted from trees, wolf form, grey-brown coat sun-gleamed. Circled wide, respectful. Dropped to haunches. Waiting.
Julian shifted human. Nudity? Wolves didn't fuss.
"You followed."
Coleman shifted too. Scars, perpetual scowl. "Running ragged days now. Checking no cliff dive."
"Fine."
"Tighter than new rope." Arms crossed, unimpressed. Long history—no bullshit tolerated. "What's twisting you?"
Silence. Unneeded.
"Quinn." Neutral tone.
"What about?"
"Don't play dumb. Pack reeks of it between you two. Males betting on claim timeline."
Jaw locked. "Not mine to claim."
"Wolf begs differ."
"Wolf doesn't decide. I do."
Coleman eyed him, warrior assessing field. Fought together. Bled. Survived Morgana's poison. Bluntness earned.
"You want her."
No denial.
"Doesn't change her being human." Coleman perched on boulder, callus-picking casual. "Known you pup days. Never this with a female. Not even—"
"Morgana." Flat. "Say it."
"Wasn't gonna."
"Were thinking."
"Fine. Not even her." Steady gaze. "Scares you. Stronger after her shit."
Fists balled. Fifteen. Caught her cheating on Dad second time. Lover "attacked," gown dropped, marks bared naked. Body betrayed him—hard, ashamed. Fled her laughter. Repeated hunts. Never won, but scars festered. Rebuilt eight years. Alpha proved. Trust earned sliver by sliver. No more power ceded.
Quinn crashed in. Pink chaos. Defiant grey stare. Walls crumbling.
Silence stretched. Coleman good at it. Sky talks, solutions in gaps.
"You could have her." Careful. "Females needn't shift. Old laws—"
"Old laws greenlit combat trials too. No revival." Stone hurled off cliff, vanishing. "Elders rage modernization already. Human mate? Splinter city."
"Mate." Brows up. "Leaped there?"
Froze. Slipped. Wolf crowed. Mate. Ours.
"Doesn't matter the label." Teeth grit. "Pack rejects human Luna. You know."
"Elders hate. Complications—heirs, leadship, dynamics grasp. But Julian—" Weighing. "Want you happy. Sacrificed plenty."
"Want irrelevant."
"Bull. Alpha wellbeing packs the pack. Miserable you..."
"Not miserable."
Skeptical look.
"Managing." Amended. "Moon close. Intensifies. Passes, eases—"
"Passes, want stays. Moon denies harder."
No counter. Told himself moon madness. Hormones, proximity. Deep knew better. Feelings endured.
"What do I do, Coleman?" Slipped vulnerable. Rare. "Wolf says meant for us. Instincts scream claim, mark, mine—before any other. Pack—"
"Adapts. Wolves do."
"If not?"
"Make 'em. Alpha law. Want girl? Take. Challengers? Handle."
"Can't further. Leaves month. Obsession fades."
Head shake. Pity flicker. "Simple as that? Temporary gone with her?"
"Has to."
Simple said. Reality? Dad's decade rot. Trust fragile. Human choice shatters?
"Elders meet sans you. Compromised, blinded by human." Coleman rose, stretching. "Sterling: unfit lead."
Fury sliced clean. "Let talk."
"Not talk. Support gathering. You run girl instead fix."
"Not problem. I am."
"Fix." Unreadable. "One way."
Valley shadows lengthened, sun dipping peaks. Miles off, Quinn at his desk. Torn tee. Temptation scent.
"Back. Celebration hour out."
"Stay?"
"No. Patrol quick, house. Thanks. For..." Gesture—cliff, words, crack shown.
Nod. No more needed.
Wolf shift. Simpler. Legs four. Sensation pure. Return run shorter, body pulled magnetic.
Pack house glowed dusk windows. Office sillhouette—her. Screens haloed, leaning in, fierce focus.
Still working. Still there.
Wolf rumbled possessive. Ours.
Paused treeline. Watched. Full moon hours off. Celebration channeled energy—traditional run, gather. Tonight? Gauntlet. Instincts bayed: drag her off, isolate, safe, his.
Forced frontward. Celebration. Control. Hide break from pack. Elders.