“So, Luna,” Alpha Hudson says, placing a stack of pancakes in the middle of the table, “Ethan and Axel will give you a tour of our place today. Show you around, let you get your bearings.”
I nod, swallowing a sip of coffee. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
“We’ll also need to discuss your role here,” he continues, his gaze intense. “Your duties and expectations.”
My stomach twists. “Right. Of course.”
Ethan reaches over, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. It’s not as scary as it sounds. We’re not monsters.”
“Speak for yourself,” Axel says, winking at me, still twirling the hatchet.
Damien doesn’t talk with the others. He watches me. His eyes are darker today, a stormy dark gray—like he’s already decided I don’t belong here, but he still tracks my movements.
When our gazes lock, my chest tightens, my wolf whimpers, and I smile, because I’ll be damned if I let him smell fear on me. His gaze is unwavering; part of me wants to look away and submit, but another part wonders what it would take to warm those cold eyes.
I look away.
Breakfast unfolds in a blur of casual chatter and furtive glances. I pick at my food, too anxious to eat under their watchful eyes. My mind races, imagining what they might be thinking.
Afterward, Ethan and Axel guide me outside. The crisp morning air washes over me, refreshingly contrasting the indoor tension. We approach the pickup truck, a compact three-seater. I climb in, only to be wedged between the two imposing males. A startled yelp escapes my lips as Axel scoops me up and settles me onto his lap, his arms encircling me tightly.
“Axel,” Ethan warns, his tone sharp. “Let the girl go.”
“She’s mine,” Axel growls, possessiveness lacing his voice.
His chest is solid against my back, his breath warm against my ear.
“She’s all of ours. Remember? And you’re scaring her.”
Axel relaxes his grip slightly, shifting me back to the middle, but his hand clamps down on my inner thigh, firmly.
What is this guy’s deal?
He clearly has no sense of boundaries. And by “issues,” I mean a complete disregard for personal space.
With his other hand, he grips his hatchet.
Okay, maybe more than just boundary issues.
Ethan points at various things as we drive, though I remain acutely aware of Axel’s hand still gripping my thigh.
We drive the perimeter of the compound, the vast wilderness stretching out before us.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, taking in the rugged peaks and dense forests.
Ethan nods. “It is. Harsh, but beautiful. Much like life itself.”
“There are two entrances,” Ethan continues, finally drawing my attention. “A southern gate that leads to the main house and an eastern gate that leads to some cottages. We have tenants.”
“Tenants?” I echo, my brow furrowing.
“Yes,” Ethan replies. “We’re a refuge, a haven for those seeking peace, freedom, and security. Some shifters come from difficult pasts, but we help them regain their footing. In return, they work the land and assist with daily tasks. Many choose to stay in the North and build new lives nearby.”
I’m taken aback.
The idea of this place being a refuge brings a sense of relief, but also countless questions. “That is incredible,” I say.
Ethan points toward a small cluster of cottages nestled against towering pines. “Those cottages house some of our newest arrivals. They’re still getting accustomed to the freedom.”
