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Summary
Derek prowled through the pack’s territory, his movements slow and methodical as he marked the trees lining the border. The scent of his claim lingered in the crisp night air, a silent warning to any who dared trespass. The neighboring packs knew better than to encroach on Hale land, so his patrols were usually uneventful—save for the occasional lone wolf foolish enough to test their luck.
Nose to the ground, Derek inhaled deeply, the damp earth and crushed grass filling his lungs. He swept forward, the tickle of blades against his snout barely registering—until something new curled into his senses.
Sweet.
His ears flicked forward, body going still as he took another deep pull of air. The scent was intoxicating, a cloying heat laced with something sharp and distinctly fox. An omega in heat.
Derek’s mouth parted slightly, his tongue running over his lips as he tracked the scent. He’d never been drawn to a fox before—usually, their scent barely registered. But this one? This one called to him. Urged him forward like a force of nature.
He followed the twisting, erratic trail, weaving through the underbrush with effortless grace. The omega was either playing or completely lost.