Wild Heart (The Beast & The Beauty #1)

Chapter 1

Cassius

A low, guttural snarl rips from my throat as I drive my skull forward, smashing into the mangy wolf’s muzzle.

The creature yelps, its body crumpling against a gnarled oak trunk.

I stare down at the pathetic beast, a wave of contempt washing over me.

It dared to cross the border, dared to threaten what’s mine.

I don’t hesitate. I’m on it in a flash, my jaws clamping down on its neck.

A single, sharp twist, and a satisfying crack echoes through the silent woods.

The rogue goes limp, a final, pitiful whimper dying in its throat.

I drop the disease-ridden carcass and let the shift wash over me.

My bones realign with familiar, bone-grinding cracks as I return to my human form.

The cold night air bites at my bare skin, a welcome sensation after the heat of the hunt.

I reach for the grey sweats and white sneakers I’d stashed in the hollow of a tree, pulling them on with a sigh.

My hand finds the pack of cigarettes in my pocket.

I light one, the sharp taste of smoke a poor substitute for the adrenaline fading in my veins.

Finally, I look at the rogue. His body is human now, stripped of its monstrous fur.

He’s older, perhaps fifty, with a matted mess of grey hair and a prominent beer belly splayed against the forest floor.

His pale skin is streaked with his own blood, and for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something—maybe pity—touches my chest. But it’s gone in an instant.

This monster was caught trying to drag a young girl from our pack. I don’t need to ask what his intentions were. He got exactly what he deserved.

A new scent pricks at my senses, sharp and clean, almost hidden beneath the acrid smoke from my cigarette. It’s there, and then it’s gone, like a ghost on the wind. I shake my head, dismissing it.

I take a long drag from my cigarette and start the walk back to the pack house.

My wolf stirs restlessly, begging for the shift, but I silence him.

I prefer the feel of my own feet on the ground right now.

My mind is a storm of shadows. I see her, the girl of my dreams. I don’t even know her face.

I only know the shape of her, a silhouette of warmth and light, imagined as she tends to the pack.

I try to picture her features, but they’re always blurred, a cruel trick of fate.

Probably dead, I think bitterly. My wolf snarls at the thought, a sharp pang of agony lancing through my chest. But it’s the truth I have to live with.

Most wolves find their mates when they turn eighteen.

I spent my eighteenth birthday sobbing in my mother’s arms, convinced the Moon Goddess had abandoned me.

I kept searching, holding onto hope, but the years have worn me down.

The longer I go without her, the more I feel myself slipping.

My control is fraying, and my wolf is growing bolder.

If he takes the reins completely… there won’t be anything left but chaos.

I just need someone. Someone to protect. Someone to come home to. Someone who’ll giggle when I bury my face in the crook of her neck and leave playful nips on her skin. Someone strong enough to challenge me, to put me in my place when I’m wrong. I just need my mate.

I find Gareth waiting for me at the pack border.

His long blonde hair is a mess, and his face, dotted with freckles, is tight with barely concealed worry.

His grey eyes scan the woods, searching for any sign of the rogue, his fists clenched and ready to follow my orders.

Gareth is my beta, but he’s more than that. He’s my brother in all but blood.

And a massive bottom, I think with a private smirk. But we don’t talk about that.

He found his mate, Fraser, on his birthday, just as the Moon Goddess intended.

I’m happy for him. Truly, I am. But watching them together, their easy affection, is like a knife twisting in my gut.

All it does is fuel the beast inside me, the one that would tear the world apart to find her.

I look down at my best friend, who stands a few inches shorter than me.

“He’s dead,” I say flatly.

Gareth’s eyes widen at my bluntness as I take another drag of my cigarette. “I’ll get the cleanup,” he mutters, already backing away.

I grunt in acknowledgment and continue my trek toward my house. It’s a modest cottage, simple and unassuming. I could care less about its appearance. It’s just a place I sleep. My home is a woman I’ve never met. This wooden shack is just a building.

A quiet, pained howl escapes my lips as I walk through the empty house. The silence is suffocating. No one is here, and no one will be. I need to move on. My pack needs a Luna. I need to find someone else. Unless she turns up.

But who would love a monster like me?