Chapter 2: The Morning After
Dawn filtered through the canvas, a pale, honeyed light that did little to warm the tent. The air was stale with the night’s activities—sex, smoke, and the deep, spiced scent of Leonid’s skin.Jennie woke not to sound, but to absence. The solid heat of him was gone from beside her.
A flicker of panic, sharp and cold, shot through her veins before she saw him.
He was seated on a low stool by the tent flap, already dressed in dark jeans and a worn grey shirt, unlaced boots on his feet. He was rolling a cigarette, his long fingers precise, his head bowed in concentration. The quiet grace of him, the absolute self-containment, stilled her racing heart.He was here. He had chosen to be here, in the tent with her, rather than out in the breaking day.
“You’re staring,” he said, without looking up.He licked the paper’s edge, sealed it.
“I’m counting,” she replied, her voice sleep-rough. She pushed up on her elbows, the blanket falling to her waist. The cool air pebbled her skin, tightened her nipples.She saw his nostrils flare slightly, a minute intake of breath. A thrill, small and dark, twisted in her stomach. “Three hundred and seventeen breaths since I woke up and you weren’t touching me.”
He glanced at her then, a slow, heavy-lidded look that traveled from her tangled black hair down to where the blanket pooled in her lap. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. “Dramatic.”
“Accurate.” She swung her legs out, bare feet meeting the cool, rumpled furs.She didn’t reach for a robe. Let him look. Let him see the marks his hands and mouth had left on her thighs, the curve of her ass.She stood, stretching, a deliberate, feline arch of her spine. The shift from last night was somewhere on the floor.She left it there.
He struck a match, the flare briefly illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He lit the cigarette, took a drag, and held it out to her across the space between them.An offer.A connection.
She padded over, took it, their fingers brushing. As she inhaled, she leaned down, bracing her free hand on his thigh, and kissed him.It was a deep, slow kiss, full of sleep and smoke and claiming. She felt the hard line of his erection through his jeans, pressed against her hip. A low, approving hum vibrated in his throat.
A sudden, raucous commotion shattered the quiet outside—boisterous laughter, the heavy thud of something being dumped on the ground, a voice raised in boastful triumph. It was followed by the familiar, greasy scent of a fresh kill and something else, something cloying and aggressive: Kai.
Jennie felt Leonid go perfectly still beneath her hand.Not tense, but still, like a predator before the strike. His eyes, which had been soft and dark with desire, cooled into chips of obsidian.
“Sounds like the party’s started without us,” she murmured, taking another drag before handing the cigarette back. She didn’t move from her position, her hand still on his leg, a display of casual intimacy meant for any eyes that might glance their way.
“Mmm.” Leonid’s gaze was fixed on the tent flap. He finished the cigarette, crushed it under his boot heel, and stood in one fluid motion. His hand settled on the small of her back, a proprietary touch that burned through her skin. “Let’s go see what the puppy dragged in.”
Outside, the camp was stirring. The clearing was bathed in weak morning light, mist curling around the bases of the pines. A group of pack members had gathered around Kai, who stood, chest puffed, over the carcass of a massive stag.It was a good kill, impressive. But it was the way he presented it—one foot up on the animal’s antlered head, a wide, arrogant grin splitting his face—that turned the achievement into a provocation.
Kai’s eyes, a muddy brown, swept the crowd, seeking approval, dominance.They landed on Jennie and stuck. The grin didn’t falter; if anything, it deepened, became something hungrier. His gaze slid over her bare legs, the thin shift clinging to her body, her unbound hair. It was a look that stripped, that presumed.
Leonid’s hand on her back didn’t tighten.It simply became more present, a fixed point in the universe. He guided her forward, his steps slow and deliberate.The chatter died down as they approached.The pack instinctively made space.
“Leonid,” Kai said, the name sounding like a challenge. His eyes flicked to Leonid’s face for a second before returning to Jennie.“Jennie.You’re up early. Or didn’t you sleep?” He let out a chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes.
“We heard the noise,” Leonid said, his tone flat, disinterested. He glanced at the stag.“You didn’t track that.You stumbled on it.It’s old. See the wear on the hooves? Slower than the rest of its herd.” He delivered the critique like a weather report, utterly devoid of malice, which made it all the more devastating.
A flush crept up Kai’s neck.His smile hardened.“Still feeds the pack. A solid contribution.” He emphasized the last word, another glance at Jennie.“Unlike some solo excursions that bring back… what? A rabbit?”
Jennie felt the ripple in the pack, the subtle shift of attention and tension. She leaned subtly into Leonid’s side, a silent show of alliance. She smiled, a sweet, sharp thing.“Rabbit’s tender.Less chewing. More time for other things.” Her voice was light, conversational, but her eyes on Kai were blank, a door slammed shut.
Kai’s jaw worked. He took his foot off the stag and took a step closer, the scent of his sweat and aggression rolling off him. “You know, Jennie, an omega of your… particular disposition might appreciate a kill with some weight to it. Something that shows real strength.”
The air crystallized.Leonid didn’t move, didn’t growl. But the quality of his silence changed.It became absolute, a vacuum about to implode. His hand slid from her back to her hip, his fingers digging in just enough for her to feel the promise in them. Mine.
“Her disposition is just fine,” Leonid said, his voice so quiet everyone had to strain to hear. He finally turned his head fully to look at Kai, and what Kai saw there made him take an involuntary step back. “And she’s not interested in your dead things, Kai. She has mine.”
The unspoken words hung in the mist: And I am not a dead thing.For a long moment, nobody breathed. Kai’s bravado crumpled under the weight of Leonid’s glacial stare. The fragile ego, punctured, quivered on his face.He looked away first, muttering something about getting the stag butchered.
As the pack dispersed, the collective exhale was almost audible. Leonid guided Jennie back toward their tent, his grip on her hip unyielding. Once inside, he turned her to face him. His eyes searched hers, not for fear, but for that flicker of dark satisfaction he knew lived there.
“He looks at you,” Leonid stated, his thumb stroking the sharp bone of her hip.
“Let him look,” she whispered, rising on her toes to brush her lips against his jaw. “He only gets to see what’s yours.” She felt the low rumble in his chest before she heard it, a possessive sound that vibrated through her own body.
“He’s going to be a problem,” Leonid said, more to himself than to her. His gaze was distant, already plotting trajectories, outcomes. The solitary hunter assessing a new, irritating scent on the wind.Jennie wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his focus back down to her. To the now. “Then we’ll deal with him.” Her voice was soft, but the certainty in it was absolute, and edged with something frightening. “Later.”
She kissed him again, deep and consuming, pouring all her twisted devotion into it. For now, the threat was outside, pacing at the edges. In here, there was only them, the taste of smoke, and the promise of a different, more intimate kind of hunt.