Chapter 4
Silas
Ishould have let her ride with someone else. The moment her arms wrap around me, I’m itching to pull her closer.
Don’t ask me why.
Junie infuriates me.
Annoys me.
She makes me curious, and this is a distraction I don’t need. There’s too much at stake with the current pack business.
“Hold on tight,” I say over my shoulder, then curse myself for saying anything because as soon as I give the quad the tiniest bit of gas, she holds on for dear life. “Don’t suffocate me, human.”
The last thing I hear before I take off for the cabins is her small chuckle.
For the next twenty minutes, I force myself to remember why someone like her is dangerous when romantic relationships have been off the table for me for nearly a decade.
As a young wolf, having a mate was a task box for my life that had to be checked off.
An Alpha with a mate is stronger because they have a partner to balance the chaos of the pack.
They are the empathetic piece to the puzzle, a sounding board, someone members can talk to when the Alpha isn’t around.
A decade ago, when I was twenty-five, my life was picture fucking perfect.
My relationship had been going solid for nearly eight years. Stella wasn’t my fated mate, but we chose each other. That was, until she broke my heart.
I went on to lead the Starview pack as planned, but I never entertained any romantic feelings. I’ve made damn sure that I couldn’t, bargained with a witch, and everything. Anything to save me and my wolf from the heartbreak we went through.
My pack, especially Fran and Jake, saved me.
They picked me up when I’d fallen down, encouraged me to remain as Alpha, and gave me the strength that led me to now take over the entire north.
As seconds, Jake is the leader of our front-line and Fran is the key negotiator between the packs.
The only problem lately has been smaller groups that oppose the four packs merging into one and believe they have a contender for the Alpha spot.
Protecting my pack has to stay my main priority.
We are about two miles from camp when the snow falls again.
I have to slow down to avoid hitting a tree because I can hardly see a few feet in front of me.
My wolf helps with my sense of direction, but he’s also distracted by Junie’s aura.
Maybe even more than me, and I’m not in the head space to unpack that.
Every time there’s a visible crack in the mountain snow, Junie tenses and squeezes me tight. When it snows like this and there’s a chance for multiple avalanches, every second counts. One second can make the difference between getting caught in the snow, unable to get out, and reaching safety.
Another crack, and I’m cursing myself. Before I think better about it, I take my left hand off the handlebars now that we are in the final straightaway and cup Junie’s hands around my waist. I squeeze, hoping it lends some comfort, even if I want her to realize how unsafe this is.
She should have stayed wherever the fuck she was. We run around the mountain to rescue tourists who don’t know how to read the weather. Normally, it’s when snow wasn’t predicted or started early, not when it happens exactly as stated on every weather app.
I’m assuming Junie isn’t a tourist because she didn’t have any luggage. If she were coming from Starview Inn, she would have been on her way out of town.
Add her being local to the reasons why she’s a distraction that needs to go away as soon as possible. I haven’t pushed away everyone remotely interested in me for the past decade only to end up falling for a human.
We are nearly to the cabins, our safe zone, when a crack from our right is louder than the rest. Sure enough, when I steal a glance, I find a clump of snow traveling down the mountain.
Fuck.
Driving mid-avalanche wasn’t on my agenda today, and I really wish I could shift to make it back instead of relying on this vehicle.
“Silas,” Junie yells from behind me.
I remove my hand from hers and place it back on the handlebars, taking the risk and moving faster. There’s a slim chance it’s not a large quantity of snow, but it’d be enough to box us in.
Junie’s arms wrap tighter, somehow, around me, and she calls my name again.
“Hang on,” I yell back.
She responds by resting her head on my back, hopefully holding me as tight as she can.
Alright, help me get us home.
My wolf huffs in response, and I can feel the minor shift of him coming forward. It’s not enough to overtake, not enough to shift, but it’s enough to give me the senses I need to get us back. I hope.