Page 9 of Alpha Unbound

And there it is—that damn buzzing in my skull, the subtle change in the air, the pull like a hook lodged somewhere behind my ribs. I felt it earlier, tried to dismiss it as adrenaline, as memory, as anything else. But standing here, naked and already half undone, there’s no use pretending. That dizziness, the disorientation, the way everything around her feels louder, sharper—it’s the mark of being in the presence of a fated mate.

And it pisses me off.

I didn’t think fate had a mate left for me. Didn’t believe I’d ever feel this. Not after everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve done. I thought I had sealed that door shut a long time ago. But here she is. And here I am—relieved in some raw, stupid part of me, and annoyed as hell at the rest. Because of course it’s her. Of course it’s Kate McKinley, all sass and wildfire and stubborn smiles.

The universe must have a twisted sense of humor.

I don’t bother turning. “You following me now, McKinley?”

Her voice comes like warm whiskey. It slides over me, low and steady, and something in my gut clenches. My body reacts before my brain catches up—tightening, warming, wanting. I try to will it down, but I’m naked in every sense of the word, and her scent—sharp citrus and something sun-warmed—is not helping.

“You’re not the only one who noticed the markers had been tampered with.”

I rise to my feet and turn, slow and steady. Kate stands ten feet away, and I can feel the heat of her gaze before I meet it. Her eyes sweep over me—broad chest, scarred arms, every exposed inch of skin—and linger just a beat too long at my hips. Her cheeks darken, but she doesn’t look away. If anything, she lifts her chin like she dares me to call her on it.

She sees everything. The muscles tight from shifting, the steam still rising off my skin, the visible result of her presence and the way it’s messing with every instinct I’ve got. My arousal’s impossible to hide, and she notices it—blinks once, slow, but doesn’t flinch. That almost undoes me more than anything.

There’s no shame in her gaze—just curiosity and maybe a flicker of appreciation that stokes the fire already smoldering in my gut. And that pisses me off as much as it turns me on. I’m not used to being this exposed, not just physically but emotionally—laid bare before someone who looks at me like she sees all of it and isn’t afraid. Vulnerable. That’s the word I don’t want to admit. But here, now, under her gaze? I feel it. And I want her anyway.

Hank’s not with her. Probably for the best. The last thing I need right now is a damn goose with a hero complex while I’m fighting every part of myself not to close the distance between us.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

She crosses her arms. “That’s rich, coming from a man standing barefoot and naked in the woods.”

I don’t move. “It’s protected territory.”

She lifts her chin. “It’s McKinley land.”

“No, it’s Rawlings land. The McKinley’s lost it a long time ago. But it doesn’t matter, it’s not a damn tourist trap.”

Her gaze flicks to the stone. “You find what you were looking for?”

“Depends. You looking for a reason to rile me up today?”

Her lips curve into that maddening grin. “You’re already riled. I think you were born that way. I’m just here for the view.”

The tension’s thick between us—spiked with frustration, heat, and that damn pull I’ve been trying to ignore. Her scent tangles in my lungs. Sweet. Wild. Unmistakable. It lingers on the back of my tongue like dark honey and lightning. I remember how she looked behind the counter—flushed, defiant, mouth ready to make trouble. My wolf remembers, too. Every muscle in me tightens.

She’s always been fire—fierce, wild, untouchable. But now she’s something else entirely. She’s not just heat, she’s gravity—pulling at me from the inside out, anchoring and destabilizing all at once. The air around her hums with tension, her scent like smoke laced with something sweet and unshakable. She doesn’t just spark desire—she reignites it. Old want, buried deep, rises raw and reckless, threatening to rip through every wall I’ve built to keep it down.

My wolf stirs again.

Kate takes a slow step forward, glancing at the tracks and the gouge marks. “What do you think they were doing here?”

“Looking for something. Or leaving a message.”

She nods. “My family’s been feeling things beginning to unravel for a while. Old debts. Old feuds.”

“And old mistakes,” I say.

That earns me a glare. “Funny. You left town. We stayed. We kept this place running while you played soldier.”

I step in close, crowding her space. “My family, my pack bled for this town long before I left or put on this badge.”

She doesn’t flinch. “Then act like it.”

Silence stretches between us, thick as smoke. Her eyes flash, not afraid—never afraid—but sharp and daring, like she wants to see how close I’ll get before I burn. I should walk away. Hell, I should’ve never turned around. But I don’t.

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