The Beta and his mate

The rush of wind was a familiar companion, the scent of pine and damp earth a constant in Blaine's world. Today, however, those comforts were overshadowed by the pounding of paws behind her, relentless and gaining. She was a rogue, used to the chase, but these three were particularly stubborn.

Her quick shift to wolf form had already saved her once, a swift slash ending the pursuit of one attacker. Now, two remained, their guttural snarls echoing through the trees. Blaine ducked and weaved, her injured leg a dull ache, a constant reminder of their last brutal encounter. She needed distance, pure and simple.

Then, the air shifted. A subtle, almost imperceptible change in the forest's energy, a weighty presence that made her hackles rise. Pack territory. Damn it. She spun, intending to flee, but found herself face to face with her pursuers, teeth bared, saliva dripping.

A blur of movement, a lunge, and a sharp, blinding pain as teeth clamped around her back leg. She howled, scrambling, but before she could retaliate, another wolf, larger and darker, appeared as if from nowhere, knocking her attacker aside. The new wolf was a force of nature, swiftly ending the rogue's life.

As the adrenaline faded, a new sensation overwhelmed her, a profound pull that resonated deep within her bones. He was her mate. Her stomach plummeted. Crap.