Howl To My Heart

‎If regret had a smell, it'd be wet pine, nostalgia, and my brother's cologne choking the backseat of my car.

‎Wolfwater Ridge looked exactly like the kind of small town that whispered secrets into the trees. The same rickety "Welcome Home!" sign leaned at the town border, still missing an "e," so it read, W lcome Home. Fitting. Even the forest seemed to sigh as I rolled past, like it knew I didn't belong here anymore.

‎I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and muttered, "Population: Regret."

‎Out loud. To myself. Because apparently I talk to myself now. Great start.

‎The GPS pinged like it was trying to mock me. Destination reached.

‎Yeah, thanks, traitor.

‎The Quinn family cabin sat at the edge of the woods same faded blue shutters, same creaky porch that used to double as my escape route during teenage rebellion phases. Jamie, my older brother, was standing there waiting for me, grinning like the sun itself had kissed his dumb face. His Beta aura buzzed faintly in the air, warm, steady, dependable. Typical Jamie.

‎"River! You actually came!" he shouted, bounding down the steps like an overexcited golden retriever in human form.

‎I opened my car door with the grace of someone walking into a crime scene. "Don't sound so surprised. You invited me to your mating ceremony, remember? Kind of hard to ignore the pack's royal wedding."

‎Jamie hugged me before I could dodge. "Still dramatic, huh?"

‎"Still marrying a guy who thinks howling at the moon is romantic?" I shot back, but hugged him anyway. Because as much as I hated this town, I didn't hate him.

‎He laughed, smelling faintly of cedar and happiness. I smelled like coffee and resentment.

‎Inside the cabin, the air buzzed with chatter. Old pack members greeted me with thinly veiled curiosity, their smiles polite but their noses twitching. Omegas weren't exactly rare in Wolfwater Ridge but unmated ones who ran away to the city? That was gossip gold.

‎"River Quinn," came a smooth, feminine voice. I turned to see Grandma Quinn perched at the kitchen counter like some witchy oracle in a cardigan. Her gray curls were pinned up, and her eyes glittered with mischief. "You look pale. Have you been eating properly?"

‎"Define properly," I said, eyeing the spread of food she'd already laid out. "And no, caffeine counts as nutrition."

‎She clicked her tongue. "City life made you thinner and snarkier. Both are crimes in this household."

‎I grinned, but it faltered when she added softly, "The Moon always brings back those who still have something left to face."

‎Something cold trickled down my spine. "That sounds vaguely threatening, Grandma."

‎She just smiled. "Good."

‎---

‎Later that night, after dodging endless pack introductions, I slipped outside. The moon hung heavy and full, casting silver through the pines. The forest smelled like rain and memory. Somewhere deep in the woods, a howl broke the silence, low, commanding, impossible to ignore.

‎I froze. Every Omega instinct in my body went rigid.

‎No.

‎No way.

‎That sound was impossible to mistake.

‎Rowan Blackthorn.

‎The last time I'd heard that voice, it was followed by the slam of a janitor's closet door and the words, "Maybe this'll shut you up, Quinn."

‎My pulse quickened. I hadn't seen him since high school. The rumor was that after his father died, he'd taken over as Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack, the same pack that merged with ours years ago. Which meant that now, technically, he was my Alpha.

‎"Perfect," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Just what I needed. Emotional trauma in wolf form."

‎Behind me, the sound of footsteps on gravel made me turn.

‎"River Quinn," a voice said deeper now, roughened with time, but unmistakably his.

‎I turned to see Rowan standing there, tall and broad-shouldered, the moonlight carving silver edges along his jaw. His black hair was shorter than I remembered, his eyes still the color of storm clouds right before rain. He looked older. Sharper. And, annoyingly, hotter.

‎My heart did an unhelpful flip.

‎"Alpha Blackthorn," I said with a forced smile. "Long time no closet."

‎His mouth twitched almost a smirk. "Still got that mouth, I see."

‎"Still got that ego, I see."

‎The air between us shifted, thickening with something electric. My wolf stirred uneasily, recognizing something I didn't want to acknowledge. His scent cedar smoke and iron hit me like a punch to the gut, warm and sharp all at once.

‎Rowan took a step closer, his voice dropping. "You shouldn't be out here alone during the full moon."

‎"Oh, please," I scoffed. "What's the worst that could happen? You gonna lock me up again?"

‎That earned a quiet, humorless laugh. "Not this time."

‎Something flickered in his eyes, something that made my wolf push forward, curious, yearning. I took a step back.

‎"Good," I said, voice tighter than I intended. "Because I didn't come here to relive bad memories. I came for my brother's wedding, and then I'm gone."

‎"Right," he said softly. "We'll see about that."

‎Before I could snark back, the wind shifted. Our scents tangled, mine and his. And suddenly, my wolf howled inside me, claws scraping, recognition burning through every nerve.

‎No.

‎No, no, no.

‎This couldn't be happening.

‎Rowan's eyes widened just slightly, his pupils dilating. He inhaled sharply, scenting the air.

‎"Oh, Moon above," I whispered, heart hammering. "You've got to be kidding me."

‎Rowan's voice came out low, almost reverent. "Fate's got a cruel sense of humor, doesn't she?"

‎My vision spun, every part of me screaming in denial. "No. Nope. Return to sender. I refuse"

‎But the bond thrummed between us, undeniable and ancient.

‎Rowan stepped closer until his breath brushed my cheek. "River Quinn," he murmured, almost gently, "you're my mate."

‎And just like that, my world tilted on its axis.

‎

‎If there's one thing I've learned about werewolf mating ceremonies, it's that they're eighty percent drama, ten percent magic, and ten percent trying not to cry in front of your entire pack.

‎I adjusted the collar of my too-tight shirt, glaring at my reflection in the mirror. My hair refused to cooperate, my wolf wouldn't shut up about the bond, and the suit Grandma picked for me looked like it came straight out of a royal ball for people who still used the word betrothal.

‎Jamie's voice boomed through the door. "River! Hurry up, the ceremony starts in five!"

‎"Tell fate I'm busy avoiding lifelong trauma!" I shouted back.

‎"Already told her," he replied. "She laughed."

‎Typical.

‎When I finally stepped out, the forest clearing had been transformed. Strings of lanterns hung between trees, and an altar woven with silver leaves stood in the center. The entire pack gathered in a semicircle, wolves in human form, dressed in muted shades that somehow made them all look like magazine models for "Rustic Supernatural Living."

‎Jamie stood at the front, grinning like he wasn't about to bind his soul to someone for eternity. His soon-to-be mate Dominic, Rowan's Beta, which was just fantastic stood beside him, looking nervous and devastatingly in love.

‎And there, across the clearing, was Rowan.

‎The Alpha.

‎He wore a dark suit that fit him too well, his presence commanding even without a word. The moonlight traced the line of his jaw, the broadness of his shoulders. He was talking to elders, but his eyes kept flicking toward me. Every. Damn. Time.

‎I looked away, pretending to focus on the flowers. I was fine. Totally fine. My heart wasn't doing parkour in my chest. Nope.

‎Grandma Quinn raised her hands, calling for silence. The ceremony began, soft chanting, the faint shimmer of magic binding Jamie and Dominic's hands together. Their vows were sweet, clumsy, and so them.

‎When the final mark of the bond glowed between their palms, the crowd erupted into cheers. Wolves howled, champagne popped, and someone started dancing barefoot under the lanterns.

‎It should've been perfect.

‎But halfway through the celebration, my skin started to prickle. That faint electric pull in my chest, the bond was back, thrumming like a heartbeat that wasn't mine. I didn't have to look to know Rowan was close.

‎"River," a low voice said from behind me.

‎I closed my eyes. "Nope."

‎"River," he said again, and this time it wasn't a command, it was a plea.

‎I turned. Rowan stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable but his eyes stormy, restless. He'd discarded his jacket, sleeves rolled up, the top buttons undone. The Alpha aura around him shimmered faintly under the moonlight.

‎"What do you want, Blackthorn?" I asked, crossing my arms.

‎"Talk."

‎"I don't think that's a good idea. The last time we talked, I ended up in a closet."

‎He winced. "I deserved that. And worse."

‎For a second, just a second, something like guilt softened his face. Then his jaw tightened again. "But this bond, we can't ignore it."

‎I took a step back, the scent of cedar and smoke invading my senses. My wolf howled quietly, wanting to close the distance. "Watch me."

‎He moved closer anyway, voice low. "I felt it the second I saw you. You know what it means."

‎"Oh, I know exactly what it means," I snapped. "It means the Moon's got a terrible sense of humor. You? My fated mate? The guy who made high school a living nightmare? No thanks."

‎"River..."

‎"No. Don't 'River' me." My voice cracked, betraying the tremor underneath. "I built a life away from this place. Away from you. I'm not letting some ancient magic decide who I'm supposed to love."

‎Rowan's expression softened again, pained but steady. "You think I wanted this? You think I don't remember what I did to you?"

‎The rawness in his voice caught me off guard. "Then why act like this bond is a blessing?"

‎"Because it's you," he said simply.

‎For a moment, everything went quiet. The party blurred at the edges, the laughter, the music, the flicker of lanterns all fading into the background hum of our bond.

‎His scent wrapped around me like a memory I couldn't shake. My wolf pressed forward, confused and wanting. I took a shaky breath. "Rowan, don't..."

‎He reached out, fingers brushing mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a shock through me so sharp I gasped. The bond flared, visible for a split second like silver lightning between us.

‎Gasps rippled through the nearby crowd.

‎Oh no. Oh no.

‎I jerked my hand back as whispers started. "The Alpha...did you see?" "An Omega?" "Fated mates?"

‎Rowan's jaw clenched, his gaze cutting across the pack, protective and furious. "Everyone, back to the celebration," he ordered, voice laced with Alpha command. The crowd hesitated but obeyed.

‎When they dispersed, he turned to me again. "You can't hide this. The bond's awake now."

‎"Then maybe I'll find a way to break it."

‎He looked like I'd punched him. "River..."

‎I forced a smirk I didn't feel. "Enjoy the party, Alpha."

‎And before he could say another word, I turned and walked straight into the forest away from the lanterns, away from the pack, away from the mess fate had dumped at my feet.

‎Somewhere deep inside, my wolf whimpered. But I didn't look back. Not once.

‎

‎The woods are quieter than they should be.

‎Moonlight drips through the branches in silvery pools, catching on every breath of mist curling above the forest floor. Somewhere behind me, laughter breaks out from the clearing; the sound of my brother's pack celebrating, clinking glasses, and probably howling to some ridiculous love song.

‎Jamie deserves it. He's finally happy, finally mated to someone who looks at him like the stars rearranged themselves just to spell his name. Dominic's good for him. Strong, loyal, the Beta everyone secretly wants to have their back.

‎And me?

‎I'm out here talking to trees like they care.

‎I kick at a root, watching dirt scatter. My chest still feels tight not from the speeches or the tears, but from that moment earlier, when my eyes accidentally met Rowan Blackthorn's across the ceremony grounds.

‎Rowan - Alpha, local legend, walking storm cloud.

‎The man who once told me I was "reckless, loud, and impossible to control."

‎He wasn't wrong, but he didn't have to say it like he was carving it into my soul.

‎And yet, when he looked at me tonight, something was... off. Like the world tilted an inch, and the air went strange and heavy. My pulse wouldn't settle, no matter how much I pretended it was just nerves.

‎"Get a grip, River," I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. "You're not falling for that again."

‎Except I can feel something, a strange heat low in my chest, a tug that isn't mine. It's subtle but constant, like a thread winding tighter the deeper I walk.

‎Leaves rustle behind me. My wolf stirs before I even turn.

‎He's there.

‎Rowan Blackthorn.

‎Standing just beyond the tree line, half in shadow, half lit by moonlight. His black shirt sleeves are rolled up, his collar open, and that unreadable expression he wears like armor hasn't cracked once.

‎"River," he says, voice low, too calm, too deliberate.

‎I hate how my name sounds coming from his mouth.

‎And I hate even more how much I don't.

‎"Following me now, Alpha?" I cross my arms. "Careful, people might think you're obsessed."

‎His jaw tightens, but his eyes, gods, those eyes, stay on me. Steady. Piercing.

‎"You left the ceremony without saying goodbye."

‎"I wasn't aware I had to check out with management."

‎His lips twitch. "You're impossible."

‎"And you're predictable," I shoot back. "So why are you here, Rowan? Need to practice your brooding in nature?"

‎He takes a step closer. I don't move back, but every nerve in me lights up.

‎Something's wrong. The air between us is thrumming, like static before lightning. My wolf's heartbeat syncs with his, an echo that shouldn't exist.

‎"I came to make sure you were all right," he says.

‎I snort. "Oh, sure. The Alpha cares. That's new."

‎But when he steps even closer, the sarcasm dies in my throat. His scent; pine, smoke, and something darker floods my senses. I can't breathe. I can't think.

‎Rowan's eyes flash gold for a second. "Do you feel it too?"

‎That voice. That look.

‎My heart slams into my ribs. "Feel what, exactly?"

‎He swallows hard, like the words are ash on his tongue.

‎"The bond."

‎I laugh a sharp, nervous sound. "Yeah, right. The Moon Goddess must be drunk if she thinks this" I gesture between us, my hand shaking slightly, "is a good idea."

‎Rowan doesn't smile. He just watches me, his expression equal parts fury and something terrifyingly tender. "I didn't want this either, River."

‎"Then reject it," I snap. "You're Alpha. You can do whatever you want."

‎He closes the distance before I can step away, his breath brushing my cheek, his eyes searching mine like he's fighting himself every second.

‎"You think I haven't tried?" he says softly. "You think I haven't been fighting this since the moment you walked back into my territory?"

‎The world goes still. The only sound is my pulse roaring in my ears.

‎Moonlight spills over us, and the bond thrums between us alive, undeniable, and furious.

‎"Rowan..." I whisper, and it's not a plea, but it's close.

‎He exhales shakily. "I don't know what the Moon wants, River. But I can't walk away anymore."

‎And before I can come up with something sarcastic, something safe he reaches out.

‎His fingers brush mine. Just barely.

‎The bond ignites.

‎Heat sears up my arm, racing through every vein, every hidden part of me that's still his no matter how hard I've tried to bury it.

‎I jerk back, heart pounding. "No. No, this isn't real. It's not..."

‎But his eyes say otherwise.

‎And the bond hums again, deep and certain.

‎Maybe the Moon's drunk.

‎Or maybe, just maybe, I am.

‎