Ryder Holt | BETA Shadowpine

Eight months.

Eight fucking months of trying to court them the right way, and Ryder's got nothing to show for it but a drawer full of their scent and a wolf that's clawing at his ribs every time they smile.

He remembers that first attempt at Luna's Rest. Brought them their usual. Black coffee, two sugars, no cream. Memorized it after watching them order it twelve times. Set it down gentle-like, tried to make conversation. They'd thanked him, sure, but then their friend showed up and suddenly Ryder was just the mechanic who happened to be there. His wolf had wanted to growl. “You brought them coffee. What are you, their barista now? Mark them or move on.”

Then there was the time their car broke down. Convenient, since he'd loosened the battery cable himself. Just a little. Nothing dangerous. Fixed it in ten minutes flat while they watched, arms crossed, suspicious maybe but god they smelled like vanilla and copper pennies. He'd refused payment. Thought maybe—

But no. They'd driven off with a wave and left him standing there like an idiot, grease under his nails and his wolf whimpering.

The books were even worse. Spotted them eyeballing that new dark romance novel everyone’s losing their minds over (because Mauve was spotted clutching one like it was holy scripture) at the Main Street bookstore. Bought it. Left it on their doorstep with no note because what the fuck would he even write? "Hi, I'm your mate but you don't know what that means yet and by the way I turn into a giant fucking wolf."

They'd donated it to the library. He knew because he checked.

Ryder tells himself they're playing hard to get. Has to be. The alternative.... that they just don't want him makes his chest tight and his claws threaten to punch through his fingertips.

He's been patient. Hasn't told them about the supernatural shit writhing under Shadowpine's surface. Hasn't mentioned the war brewing between wolves and vampires, or that their scent makes every wolf in a ten-mile radius take notice. Definitely hasn't told them that when the moon gets full, he has to chain himself up in the garage's basement because the urge to claim them gets so strong he can't breathe.

Declan keeps telling him to make a move. "Just tell them, man. Rip the bandaid off."

But how? How does he explain that every instinct in his body screams mate when he looks at them? That he's memorized the way they stir their coffee counterclockwise, three times, always three? That he keeps that forgotten scarf under his pillow and presses his face to it when the loneliness gets too sharp?

Tonight though... tonight something's different. Wrong. Their scent trail leads away from their apartment, toward the one place in Shadowpine they should never go.

Velvet Fang.

Velvet fucking Fang.

His wolf snarls as he follows the trail, combat boots eating up pavement. Their stupid friend—Ashley? Amber? Stacey? Doesn't matter, she's fucking dead when he finds her, must have dragged them there. To vampire territory. To Victor's lair. Of all the goddamn places in Shadowpine.

The closer he gets, the more wrong everything smells. Blood. Fear. And underneath it—

Victor.

He finds them three blocks from the club, stumbling along the sidewalk like they're drunk but Ryder knows better. Knows the glassy look in their eyes, the way they're favoring their left side. The puncture wounds on their neck still weeping crimson.

Victor fucking Duval fed on his mate.

The rage is immediate. Volcanic. His vision goes red at the edges and his bones ache with the need to shift, to hunt and tear that bloodsucker's throat out with his teeth. Declan's warnings about keeping the peace echo in his head but they're nothing compared to the roar of his wolf right now.

"Hey." His voice comes out rougher than intended when he catches their elbow. They blink up at him, confused, and fuck they're so pale. "It's me. It's Ryder."

They don’t say a word, but in their clouded eyes, the flicker of almost recognition is pain to watch. And that scares him more than anything. "I know, darlin'. I know." The endearment slips out and he can't bring himself to care. "Come on. My place isn't far."

He doesn't wait for an answer, just scoops them up like they weigh nothing. They make a soft sound of protest but curl into his chest anyway, and his wolf preens even through the fury. He'll take care of them first. Make sure they're okay.

Then he's starting a goddamn war.

His apartment's never felt smaller than when he kicks the door shut behind them. Sets them on his couch gentle as he can manage when his hands are shaking with rage. The full moon bleeding through his windows doesn't help, it always makes his skin feel too tight, his teeth too sharp.

"Victor," he growls, more to himself than them. Can't help the way his lips pull back from his teeth. “That asshole had the nerve to feed on you. I swear, if I see him—”

They blink, confusion softening their gaze as they watch him pace like a wild beast on a leash. And he is caged, trapped between the need to comfort them and the need to destroy , refusing to be silenced...can’t... keep it down...

Shit. Not now...

He's been holding it back for eight months but now? Now with their blood on the air and Victor's scent on their skin and the full moon singing in his blood—

His control snaps.

The change rips through him like lightning. Bones crack and reshape, muscles tear and rebuild. His shirt shreds as his body expands, shoulders broadening beyond human limits. Claws punch through his fingertips and his jaw aches as it elongates, teeth sharpening to points meant for tearing.

"Fuck." The word comes out garbled, half-growl. He tries to stop it. Tries to pull it back because they're watching with eyes that had gone wide and he never wanted them to see him like this. Not like this. Not some monster out of their nightmares.

But the wolf won't be caged anymore. Not with Victor's scent still clinging to what's his.

Golden fur ripples across his skin. His spine arches, forcing him onto all fours as the transformation completes. Where a man stood seconds ago, now towers a massive wolf, golden with darker streaks through his chest, equal parts regal and terrifying. His amber eyes burn orange in the moonlight. He's huge. Bigger than any natural wolf has a right to be. Second only to Declan's wolf in all of shadowpine.

They're frozen on his couch. Staring. The sluggishness from Victor's feeding replaced by sharp awareness. He can hear their heartbeat jackrabbiting in their chest, smell the spike of fear over the vanilla-copper-pennies scent that drives him mad.

No. No no no.

This isn't how it was supposed to happen. He'd planned it out so many times in his head. Dinner maybe. Somewhere quiet where he could explain about mates and bonds and forever. Where he could promise to protect them from all the dark shit lurking in Shadowpine's shadows.

Not like this. Not with blood on their neck and his wolf barely leashed.

He takes a step back. Then another. Trying to make himself smaller, less threatening, but there's no making a three-hundred-pound predator look harmless. A whine builds in his throat, high, desperate. His tail tucks.

The silence stretches. Suffocating.

Then his bones start to crack again. The change reversing, slower this time, leaving him naked and shaking on his apartment floor. Human-shaped but wrong. Claws still tipping his fingers. Teeth too sharp. Eyes still burning orange.

"I can explain." His voice is wrecked. Raw. Barely human. "I can—I can explain."

But where does he even start? Hey darlin', remember all those times I fixed your car and brought you coffee? Yeah, I'm a werewolf and you're my mate and I've been going out of my mind wanting you for eight months.

Fuck.