Page 5 of Sun's Roar

“Will you shift for us tomorrow, Uncle Sol? Please?” Her eyes, so much like Claire’s, shone with admiration.

Sol placed his hand on her damp blonde head. “Perhaps. If you behave for your mother tonight.”

Joshua gathered towels for his brood. “I’ll be back shortly. Save some of that bourbon for me.”

As Joshua herded his children toward the castle’s side entrance, Sol emerged from the pool in one fluid motion. Water streamed down his body, highlighting every sculpted muscle earned through centuries of fighting and leading. The restlessness inside him hadn’t quieted. If anything, the full moon intensified it.

Sol’s wolf paced beneath his skin, eager for release, but he pushed the sensation down. Tonight was about his pack’s unity, not his inexplicable discomfort.

He soon moved through his gathered pack members with practiced ease, the perfect alpha in his element. He clasped shoulders, asked about family members, and settled minor disputes with simple decrees that no one questioned. This was what he was born for—leadership, respect, and power. The devotion in his pack members’ eyes fed something primal in him.

“Your Highness,” Eliza, one of his oldest pack members, approached with a bottle of bourbon. “Shall I refresh your drink?”

Sol held out his empty glass. “Your timing is impeccable as always.”

“The young ones were wondering if you might shift later and run with them,” she said, pouring a generous measure. “They rarely get to see their alpha’s wolf these days.”

The request stirred his wolf’s interest, but Sol kept his expression neutral. “Perhaps. The night is still young.”

Two hours passed in a blur of conversations, subtle pack politics, and maintaining the delicate balance that kept his territory thriving. When Joshua finally returned, Sol felt a big grin stretch across his face.

“About time,” Sol called out. “I was beginning to think Claire had finally made good on her threats.”

Joshua grinned back. “She tried. But I escaped by promising to do all the chores for the next week.”

“A high price.”

“Worth it for this downtime.” Joshua gestured to the illuminated volleyball court where several pack members were already gathering.

Sol’s competitive nature flared instantly. “Marcus, Ryder,” he called to two of his strongest pack members. “Care to test yourselves against your alpha?”

The challenge hung in the air, impossible to refuse. The pack members who weren’t playing gathered around the court, drinks in hand, eager to watch their leader in action.

“Rules?” Ryder asked, rolling his powerful shoulders.

“Win or suffer the shame of defeat,” Sol replied. “First to twenty-one.”

The crowd whistled and cheered as Sol took his position, the moonlight highlighting the intricate pack tattoo that covered his upper right arm—a black wolf howling before a blazing sun surrounded by trees. The symbol of Sunflare royalty.

Joshua served first, the ball arcing high before smashing down just inside the line. The game was instantly intense with neither side willing to concede a point without diving, leaping, or slamming their bodies into the sand.

Sol’s wolf reveled in the competition and display of strength and dominance. Each powerful spike he delivered drove back the strange burning sensation that had plagued him for weeks.

Before long, the score was twenty to seventeen.One point away from victory, Sol thought to himself. The volleyball hung suspended in the air for a fraction longer than gravity should allow. Sol tracked it with predatory focus, his muscles coiled as he readied for the kill shot.

“Mine,” he growled to Joshua, claiming the final spike as his birthright.

Joshua deftly set the ball with expert precision, lifting it to the perfect height. Sol launched himself skyward, his powerful body defying gravity as he rose above the net. Time seemed to slow as he hung at the apex of his jump, arm cocked back, every muscle defined in the moonlight and artificial glow of the spotlights.

His hand connected with savage force, driving the ball between their opponents who barely had time to flinch before it hammered into the sand.

“Twenty-one!” Joshua shouted, pumping his fist in triumph.

Sol landed gracefully, a satisfied smirk playing across his lips as the crowd erupted in cheers. The defeated pack members bowed their heads slightly in deference—even in games, the hierarchy remained clear.

“You could’ve left something for them to salvage,” Joshua laughed, clapping a hand on Sol’s bare shoulder, their skin glistening with sweat in the summer night.

Sol’s eyes glinted with primal satisfaction. “Mercy is a luxury for those who can afford weakness.”

---