Chapter 5
Ali
been chattering nonstop for the past hour, and Ali was beginning to understand that the supernatural trucking community operated more like an extended family than a loose network of independent drivers.
"Copy that, Siren. Appreciate the heads up."
Ali watched Tim adjust their route on the GPS, his massive fingers surprisingly nimble on the touch screen. Through the CB, she could hear what sounded like actual howling in the background of Luna's transmission—pack communication that sent chills down her spine.
"They're really coordinating like a pack," she said, fascinated by the supernatural elements she was witnessing.
"Luna's wolves can communicate over miles when they need to," Tim explained. "Bertha's cousins are using dragon fire to repair a blown tire on Snowman's rig. This isn't just trucking—it's supernatural community survival."
As if summoned by his words, Ali spotted the first truck in her side mirror—a midnight blue Kenworth that moved with predatory grace. When it pulled alongside them, she could see Luna clearly: silver-streaked hair, eyes that reflected light like mirrors, and the unmistakable aura of an alpha.
"That's Luna," Tim said. "Mountain Ridge pack alpha. Been running medical supplies for fifteen years."
The werewolf trucker gave them a nod, and Ali caught howls echoing from Luna's CB radio—pack members reporting positions, sharing information in ways that made human communication seem primitive.
"How many trucks are we talking about?" Ali asked.
"Fifteen, maybe twenty by the time we hit the state line." Tim checked his mirrors, and Ali noticed his scent had been getting stronger throughout the drive. "More than Cottonmouth can handle with local resources."
They'd been driving for another hour when Ali noticed Tim's behavior starting to change dramatically. It was subtle at first—the way he kept glancing at her, how his breathing had become deeper, more controlled. But as the miles passed, it became impossible to ignore.
His scent was overwhelming the cab. Frost traced across her fingertips as her power flared. Every time she shifted in her seat, every casual touch when he handed her the CB radio, Tim was leaving traces of himself on her clothes, her skin.
"Tim," she said during a lull in the CB chatter, "what's happening to you?"
His hands tightened on the steering wheel until she could hear the leather groan. "Nothing I can't handle."
"That's not an answer." Ali studied his profile, noting the flush creeping up his neck. "Your scent is... intense right now."
Tim was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer. Then: "It's rut season. Your presence, the mate bond, the stress of the convoy—it's triggering biological responses I've kept suppressed for twenty years."
"Rut season?" She'd read about cryptid mating cycles, but experiencing it firsthand was entirely different.
"Seasonal breeding cycle. Most sasquatch go through it once or twice a year, but I've been alone so long, I thought..." He trailed off, his voice rougher than usual. "I thought it was dormant."
The CB crackled with Luna's voice: "Big Timber, we're stopping at the next rest area. Bertha's mobile kitchen needs to resupply, and frankly, your scent is affecting every supernatural within a fifty-mile radius."
Tim's flush deepened. "Copy that, Luna."
Heat flooded her cheeks as the implications sank in. Not only was Tim in some kind of supernatural heat, but apparently everyone could tell.
"Pull over," she said.
"Ali—"
"Pull over. Now."
Tim guided the massive truck into the rest area with movements that seemed more controlled than usual, like he was fighting his own body. The moment he set the parking brake, Ali could see the tremor in his hands.
"How long does this last?" she asked.
"Usually a few days." Tim's voice was strained. "But with a mate present..." He turned to look at her, and Ali caught her breath at the intensity in his dark eyes. The gold flecks seemed to have expanded, swallowing the brown entirely. "It could be weeks."
"Weeks?" Ali's voice came out higher than intended.
"I can handle it," Tim said. His aroused scent paired with her magic that bloomed outward in waves of golden heat. "I've been controlling it for twenty years. I can—"
"Big Timber," a new voice cut across the CB—deep, with a slight accent that suggested Eastern European origins. "This is Fenris. I'm running parallel to your convoy, and I have to say, I'm impressed by the little photographer you've picked up."
Tim went completely still. "Fenris."
"Who's Fenris?" Ali asked, noting the dangerous edge that had crept into Tim's voice.
"Another alpha," Tim said, his hands clenching into fists. "Territorial. Been trying to muscle in on supernatural trucking routes for years."
Fenris's voice continued over the radio: "She smells delicious from here, Big Timber. All that sweet magical energy. If you're too busy playing convoy leader to properly appreciate her, I'd be happy to show her what a real alpha can offer."
The growl that rumbled from Tim's chest was unlike anything Ali had ever heard—primal, possessive, and absolutely terrifying. His scent flooded the cab with territorial fury. The air around her hands shimmered with heat distortion.
"Stay away from her," Tim snarled into the radio.
"Or what?" Fenris's laughter carried an edge of challenge. "You'll abandon your precious medical convoy to come teach me a lesson? We both know you won't risk those dying werewolf cubs for your personal territorial disputes."
Tim's control snapped with an almost audible crack. He was out of the truck and moving toward a black Freightliner that had pulled into the rest area before Ali could even process what was happening.
Through the windshield, she watched two massive males face off in the parking lot—Tim's barely contained fury squared against another cryptid who looked like he'd stepped out of a Norse saga.
Fenris was nearly as tall as Tim but leaner, with silver-streaked hair and a predatory smile that suggested he enjoyed conflict.
"Gentlemen," Luna's voice crackled over the radio, "we don't have time for territorial pissing matches. There are law enforcement vehicles converging on our position."
But Tim was beyond reasoning. Ali could see the way his muscles bunched under his flannel, the way he moved with lethal intent. This wasn't just about convoy leadership anymore—this was about her, and every possessive instinct Tim had was screaming for blood.
Ali made a decision that was either brilliant or completely insane. She climbed out of the truck and walked directly between the two males.
"Enough," she said, her voice carrying more authority than she knew she possessed.
Both alphas stopped moving, their attention snapping to her with laser focus. Up close, Fenris was devastatingly handsome in a dangerous, sharp-edged way that probably made most women melt. But looking at him, Ali felt nothing but irritation.
Looking at Tim, with his protective fury and barely leashed violence, her thighs clenched involuntarily. This shouldn't be attractive—Tim’s barely controlled violence—but her body didn't care about shouldn't.
"Fenris," she said, not bothering to look at the other alpha, "I appreciate the offer, but I'm exactly where I want to be."
"Are you?" Fenris stepped closer, and his scent hit her.
It smelled like cold mountain air and pine.
While it was similar to Tim's, it lacked the warmth that made her magic purr.
"Because from where I'm standing, it looks like Big Timber's too busy playing hero to give you the attention you deserve. "
"From where I'm standing," Ali replied, finally turning to meet his gaze, "it looks like you're trying to pick a fight you can't win."
Fenris's eyes narrowed. "Careful, little witch. Just because you've claimed one alpha doesn't mean you understand pack dynamics."
"I understand enough to know that real alphas don't have to steal other males' mates to prove their worth," Ali shot back.
The insult hit home. Fenris's expression turned dangerous, and for a moment Ali thought she might have pushed too far.
Tim vibrated with barely contained violence.
He positioned himself between her and Fenris like a living shield.
His growl made the windows rattle. Heat flooded Ali's body, pooling low and insistent.
Her magic approved his display of protective dominance.
"She's mine," Tim growled, his voice dropping to frequencies that seemed to vibrate through the asphalt. "Touch her, and I'll tear your throat out."
"Big Timber," Luna's voice carried urgency over the radio, "we've got company. State patrol, two miles out and closing fast."
The immediate threat broke the tension between the two males. Fenris backed toward his truck with predatory grace, his smile sharp enough to cut glass.
"This isn't over," he said. "When you realize she needs more than a reclusive convoy leader can offer, I'll be waiting."
As Fenris drove away, Ali turned to face Tim. His pupils were still blown wide with territorial fury, his scent thick with possessive need.
"We need to get back on the road," she said.
"Not yet." Tim's hands settled on her waist, and Ali could feel the tremor in his grip. "He touched you. His scent is on you."
"He didn't touch me—"
"He got close enough." Tim's voice was rough with need. "I can smell him on your skin, and it's making me crazy."
Ali stared up into his eyes and realized they were standing on the edge of something that would change everything between them. Tim's rut, Fenris's challenge, the growing convoy—it was all building to a moment where careful control would no longer be enough.
"The sleeper berth," she said. "Now."