Chapter 4
FOUR
RUNE
The worn hardwood floor of Rune’s cabin bore the evidence of his restless energy—a path carved by hours of relentless pacing between the stone fireplace and the kitchen counter.
His black henley clung to shoulders rigid with tension, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and frustration.
Dark jeans hung loose on his frame, but nothing about his posture suggested relaxation.
Control is everything. Control keeps the pack safe. Control keeps me from making mistakes.
The mantra that had anchored him for twenty years felt as substantial as smoke tonight.
Every time he tried to focus on pack reports, budget reviews, or the quarterly crime statistics gathering dust on his kitchen table, his mind betrayed him.
Green eyes. The scent of wildflowers and something uniquely her.
The way her pulse had fluttered against her throat when he’d leaned close to examine her license.
Electra Calloway.
Even her name felt dangerous on his tongue.
He ran his hand through his hair, the dark strands falling immediately back across his forehead. Twenty years of disciplined leadership, and one woman—one human woman—had turned his world upside down in the span of a handshake.
The irony wasn’t lost on him that fate would deliver his mate on this particular day.
Twenty years ago, his mother had been torn from him by violence.
Today, the universe had placed his future directly in his path, wrapped in curves and competence and completely unaware of the supernatural world she’d stumbled into.
Mom is probably laughing and winking at him at the timing.
His wolf paced restlessly, every primal instinct screaming to return to that cabin, to ensure his mate’s safety, and to claim what belonged to him. The territorial imperative burned through his veins like liquid fire, demanding action, protection, and possession.
She’s alone out there. In disputed territory. Vulnerable.
He forced his feet to stillness, gripping the back of his leather armchair until his knuckles went white. This was exactly the kind of emotional reaction that led to poor decisions. The kind of weakness that got people killed.
Focus. Think like an Alpha, not a lovesick teenager.
But the mate bond had other ideas. It pulled at him with invisible chains, tugging him toward the forest, toward her. Every minute that passed without checking on her safety felt like a personal failure.
A sharp knock at the door cut through his spiral of frustration. Rune’s head snapped up, his wolf senses immediately identifying the familiar scent beyond the threshold.
“It’s open,” he called, his voice rougher than intended.
Forrest stepped inside, his blue eyes immediately cataloging Rune’s disheveled state with the practiced ease of someone who’d known him since childhood.
His Beta moved with the casual confidence that came from years of friendship, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it with crossed arms.
“You look like hell,” Forrest observed, his dark eyebrows raised. “Rough anniversary today?”
His question hung in the air between them. Forrest had been there to comfort him the day Rune’s mother died, and had seen Rune at his absolute lowest. Every year since, his Beta had quietly ensured Rune wasn’t alone on this date, offering support without making it feel like pity.
“Not entirely,” Rune admitted, resuming his pacing.
“Care to elaborate? Because you left work three hours early without explanation, and that’s not exactly your style.”
Rune’s jaw tightened. He’d never abandoned his post before, never let personal matters interfere with duty. But sitting in that office, trying to focus on paperwork while his mate settled into her new home alone, had been impossible.
“I ran into the new cabin owner today,” he said carefully.
“I heard someone finally bought that property. Who is it?” Forrest’s tone sharpened with interest.
“Some famous human writer. Says she’s here for a year to write her book.” Rune stopped pacing, turning to face his Beta. “She’s living in disputed territory, Forrest. Right on the border between our land and Birch’s.”
Understanding flickered in Forrest’s blue eyes. The Fen Pack had been pushing for control of that particular stretch of forest for three years, claiming historical rights that predated current territorial agreements. It was a powder keg waiting for a spark.
“That’s... unfortunate timing,” Forrest said slowly. “Birch has been looking for any excuse to escalate tensions. A human in the middle of it complicates things.”
“It gets more complicated.” Rune’s voice dropped to barely a whisper, the words feeling like a confession. “She’s not just any human, Forrest.”
His Beta straightened, tension radiating through his frame. “Rune—“
“She’s my fated mate.”
Forrest’s mouth opened, then closed, his quick wit apparently deserting him for the first time in years.
“Oh no,” he finally managed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Damn, Rune, this is—“
“Catastrophic? Yeah, I’m aware.”
Forrest began his own restless movement, pacing a parallel path to Rune’s worn track. “How certain are you? Sometimes the mate bond can be confused with—“
“I touched her hand,” Rune interjected, his voice low. “The recognition was instant. She’s mine, Forrest, whether I want her to be or not. And I’m guessing Gerri Wilder had something to do with this.”
“She was with this human woman?” Forrest let out a sharp laugh devoid of humor. “That woman has a reputation for meddling in these things.”
“I never asked for this,” Rune growled, the words carrying an edge of his wolf’s frustration. “I may be thirty-eight years old, but I’m not some desperate bachelor begging the universe for intervention.”
“But here you are anyway.” Forrest’s tone gentled. “How are you handling it?”
Rune gestured to the worn path in his floor, the evidence of hours spent fighting instincts that demanded action. “About as well as you’d expect.”
“The pack laws don’t exactly account for human mates,” Forrest said carefully. “It’s not impossible, but it’s rare enough to cause problems. Questions about leadership, about tradition—“
“Birch will use this against me the moment he finds out. He’s been looking for a weakness to exploit for years. You know he wants to become the Alpha of the whole region.” Rune’s voice carried bitter understanding.
“Then we don’t let him find out. Not until you’ve figured out how to handle the situation.”
“And how exactly do I handle a mate bond with a human who doesn’t even know shifters exist?” The question erupted from him with volcanic force. “She writes about our kind like we’re fantasy creatures, Forrest. Fictional plot devices for her romance novels.”
“She writes about shifters?” Forrest’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s either incredibly ironic or incredibly convenient.”
“Definitely ironic.” Rune resumed his pacing, his energy too chaotic for stillness. “She has no idea what she’s walked into. No understanding of the danger she’s in.”
“So you protect her. Keep her safe while you figure out the rest.”
“She doesn’t know what I am,” Rune said quietly. “Doesn’t know what she is to me. For all she knows, I’m just the local sheriff who helped carry her bags.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Gives you time to approach this carefully, build trust before dropping the supernatural bomb on her.”
“Or gives me time to make mistakes that get her killed.” The words carried the weight of old trauma, memories of another woman he’d failed to protect.
Forrest’s expression softened with understanding. “This isn’t the same situation, Rune. You’re not eighteen anymore, and you’re not responsible for forces beyond your control.”
“Aren’t I? She’s in my territory, under my protection whether she knows it or not. If something happens to her because I was too cautious or too reckless—“
“Nothing’s going to happen to her. We’ll make sure of that.”
The certainty in Forrest’s voice provided an anchor Rune hadn’t realized he needed. His Beta had never made promises he couldn’t keep, had never offered empty reassurance. If he said they’d protect her, he meant it.
“Keep this between us for now,” Rune said finally.
“My lips are sealed,” Forrest promised as he headed for the door.
The silence after Forrest’s departure felt suffocating. Rune’s cabin, normally a sanctuary of controlled order, now felt like a cage. The mate bond was already weaving invisible threads between him and Electra, pulling at his consciousness with relentless persistence.
This is madness.
But his wolf disagreed. The primal part of him that had recognized her instantly demanded action. The civilized sheriff might understand the need for patience and careful planning, but his wolf operated on more fundamental imperatives.
She’s alone. Unprotected. Mine.
Rune stepped onto his front porch, the cool mountain air carrying the familiar scents of pine and earth. But underneath it all, threading through the forest like a beacon, was her scent.
Just a patrol. Standard security sweep.
Even as he rationalized the decision, his hands moved with deliberate efficiency.
The black henley came off first, revealing the broad expanse of his chest and the rigid muscles of his abdomen.
The fabric hit the wooden deck with a whisper.
His jeans and boxers followed, pooling at his feet as the night air kissed his skin.
Standing naked under the moonlight, Rune felt the familiar surge of power that preceded the shift. His wolf pressed against his consciousness, eager for freedom.
Control the shift. Control the wolf.
But control felt like a luxury he could no longer afford.