Chapter Nine: Chases, Chances, and Crossing Lines

The next morning, a knock yanked me from a tangle of restless sleep, sharp against the fog in my head. "Kyan?" Electra's voice came through the door, bright but edged with hesitation. "Did you still want to go on a run?"

My stomach knotted. Ignoring her hurt—her voice alone tugged at me—but I rolled over, the mattress creaking under my weight, and squeezed my eyes shut, willing her to leave. My breath stayed shallow, ears straining until her footsteps faded down the hall, no second knock to break the silence. Maybe she'd given up, gone to hang with some of her other friends—Lila, maybe. I let out a slow exhale, relief warring with a guilt I couldn't shake, her cream wolf and that laugh still haunting me.

Ten minutes crawled by, my mind spinning—her grin, that stupid moment I'd licked her cheek, the deal with Cade hanging over me like a noose: no flirting, no trouble, or you're gone. I couldn't hide forever. With a groan, I threw off the sheets, the cool air biting my skin as I fumbled for sweatpants on the floor. My black hair fell messy over my eyes, and I shoved it back, too lazy to check a mirror. I yanked the door open, ready to bolt downstairs—and froze.

"Ha! I knew you were faking it!" Electra shouted, leaning against the wall beside my door, arms crossed, a triumphant grin splitting her face. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, her ponytail loose from sleep, strands brushing her cheeks like a soft frame.

I groaned, loud and dramatic, wishing I'd stayed buried in bed just a little longer. "You're relentless," I muttered, rubbing my face, but her grin held firm. Then her gaze dropped, snagging on my bare chest—old scars crisscrossing my skin from years of fights—and her lips parted slightly. I cleared my throat, sharp and deliberate, and she snapped her eyes up, wide and caught, a blush blooming across her cheeks. Smirking, I couldn't resist—the flustered look was too good, even if it stirred something I shouldn't let grow.

She ducked her head, muttering, "Come on, let's go on that run," and started down the hall without looking back. Halfway, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. "You coming?"

Frustration rumbled in my chest, but I followed, boots thudding on the hardwood. This wasn't helping my plan to keep my distance—Matt's cover wouldn't mean squat if Cade caught us again—but I couldn't drum up a decent excuse. Telling her I didn't want to hang out would've crushed her, and despite the risk, I didn't have the heart to do it. Her footsteps echoed ahead, pulling me along like a rope I couldn't cut.

We reached the tree line, the forest air crisp with pine and dew, the morning sun just peeking through the canopy. She stopped, gesturing to her usual spot behind a cluster of pines. "So, um, I'll change over there," she said, her voice quieter now, pointing to where she'd darted off before.

I waited until she was out of sight, then stripped, facing away, the chill prickling my skin as I tossed my sweatpants onto a low branch. The shift came quick—bones popping, fur rippling, my dark grey wolf shaking out its coat, claws sinking into the mossy earth. Electra padded up soon after, her cream wolf gleaming in the dawn light, smaller than mine but sturdy, her alpha blood giving her a quiet power. We didn't speak, just ran, paws thudding in sync through the underbrush. The rhythm was steady, a stamina-building pace, and her presence—silent but warm—eased the tightness in my chest. For a while, it was just us and the woods, no rules, no threats, no looming consequences.

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We kept it up for days, rising early to beat training, a routine that dug into my bones like a familiar trail. Being beta meant no town job—my days were patrols (when I wasn't sidelined), pack chores, and keeping us safe. Electra, though, had no duty tying her here—alpha's daughter, she could've lounged by the fire all day—but she trained anyway, ran with me anyway, her grit shining through. It reminded me of the kid she'd been, scampering after Cade and me, fearless even then, and I couldn't help admiring her for it, even if it complicated everything.

Friday rolled in, our last run before the weekend break—no training, no early alarms. We set off as usual, the forest waking slow under a grey sky, mist curling through the trees like ghostly tendrils. Our pace was steady, breath fogging in the cool air, the crunch of leaves underfoot a quiet cadence. Then Electra nudged my side with her shoulder, a playful bump that jolted me. I side-glanced her—her cream muzzle stretched in a wolfish grin—and she bumped me again, harder, before bolting ahead, legs churning as she tore through the brush, her tail a flickering flag.

The chase flared in me, instinct roaring awake—catch her. I surged forward, claws digging deep into the soft earth, the gap closing fast. She was quick, her alpha blood fuelling her stride, but I was bigger, faster, honed by years of running these woods. When I drew close, her tail a flick away, I leaped, tackling her with a grunt. We tumbled, rolling over moss and twigs, a tangle of fur and momentum, until we stopped—me sprawled atop her, our snouts inches apart, her cream coat stark against the green beneath.

Her laugh burst through the mind link, bright and bubbling, and I couldn't hold mine back, a deep rumble blending with hers. Then her wolf face shifted—eyes narrowing, grin fading—and before I could react, she licked my snout, a quick, warm swipe that jolted me like a snapped wire. My laugh died, shock flashing cold through me, then morphing to dread as the weight of it sank in. She'd kissed me back—mirrored my dumb move from days ago—and this was a disaster. A full-on, Cade-will-skin-me disaster.

I yanked back, scrambling off her, my paws slipping on the damp ground. Her eyes widened, surprise flickering as she rolled over, standing slow, her cream fur ruffled. She stared at me, searching, and I looked away, heart hammering against my ribs. "We should head back now," I said through the link, my voice tight, clipped. She nodded once, head dipping, her tail low—sulking, maybe—and started walking, her pace dragging like she carried a stone.

The trek back was silent, the forest's hum—birds chirping, leaves rustling—mocking the tension between us. We split at the tree line, me shifting fast behind my oak, yanking on my sweatpants with hands that wouldn't steady. The fabric clung to my damp skin, the chill biting deeper now, sinking into my bones. Electra emerged a minute later, her hair messy, leaves in it, her smile forced as she approached. "I guess I'll see you at the party tonight?" she asked, voice small, green eyes flicking to mine then skittering away.

"Yeah," I said, nodding stiffly, my throat dry. "See you later." She turned, disappearing into the house, and I trudged toward the kitchen, my head a storm of thoughts. Breakfast was mechanical—bacon sizzling in the pan, eggs frying, the sharp scent filling the air—but I barely tasted it, shoving bites down as my mind churned. Electra's lick, her laugh, the feel of her under me—it looped on repeat, a reel I couldn't stop. Had she meant it, or was it a reflex, like mine had been? Didn't matter—it couldn't happen again. Cade's deal was a blade at my throat, and Matt's cover wouldn't hold if this kept spiralling. I had to shut it down, but how? Every run, every grin, dragged me deeper, and I was running out of ways to claw my way back.

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That night, the pack house buzzed with a small but nice party—one of the residents, a wiry guy named Tobin, was turning twenty-five. The main hall glowed with string lights draped over the rafters, a mismatched spread of food—venison sliders, chips, a lopsided cake—crowding the long table. Laughter and chatter filled the air, a handful of wolves milling about with beers or sodas, the scent of grilled meat and sugar lingering. It wasn't a wild blowout, just a cosy gathering, but I stuck to the edges, avoiding Electra at all costs.

She was there, of course—impossible to miss in a green sweater that matched her eyes, her ponytail swapped for loose waves, laughing with Lila near the fireplace. Every time she moved closer, I shifted—grabbing a drink, stepping outside for air, anything to keep a wall of bodies between us. My chest tightened each time her gaze flicked my way, but I didn't meet it, couldn't risk it.

Matt found me by the back door, a beer in hand, his bruised eye from the rogue fight faded to a faint shadow. "Hey, stranger," he said, clapping my shoulder, his grin easy but sharp. "Hiding from someone?"

"Shut up," I muttered, sipping my own beer, the cold bite of it grounding me. "Just... chilling."

He smirked, but didn't push—thank the goddess. We leaned against the wall, catching up on anything but what he'd seen in the woods. He rambled about a hunting trip gone wrong—tripped over a root, spooked a deer herd—and I griped about the council's anger classes, the shrink's lavender stench still stuck in my nose. We laughed, swapped stories about dumb pack pranks from years back, the noise of the party a buffer around us. It was good—normal, safe—until I caught Electra's silhouette across the room, her head turning my way, and I ducked outside again, Matt's knowing chuckle trailing me into the night.