Chapter Seven: Paws, Past, and Perilous Lines

A few days after Shane's banishment, I got hauled into the pack psychologist's office, the council's "anger management" sentence kicking in faster than I'd hoped. The room was tucked off the main hall, a cosy nook that smelled faintly of lavender and old books—a stark contrast to the cell's mouldy stink from that night I'd punched Shane's lights out. Dr. Ellis waited inside, a lovely woman in her late forties with silver streaks in her auburn hair and a warm smile that hadn't changed since I was a kid. I'd seen her a handful of times back then—after my parents died at six, shredded by rogues, and after I got caught swiping bread and a dagger at eight—her hazel eyes always gentle, never judging. I stepped in, flashing a small smile, and she returned it as I shut the door with a soft click and sank into the plush armchair across from her desk.

She picked up a pen and clipboard, her movements practiced, and looked at me over her glasses. "Long time no see," she said, her smile widening, a hint of teasing in her tone.

"Yeah, I was trying my best not to end up back here," I said, smirking faintly, leaning back to mask the unease prickling my spine. Last time I'd sat here, I'd been a scrawny kid, sullen and silent, not the beta I was now, benched and leashed by the council's ruling.

She scribbled something, her pen scratching against the paper. "Are you upset with yourself for ending up in a position where you're back here?" Her voice was curious, her expression soft but probing as she tilted her head.

I paused, staring at the faded rug under my boots, its swirling greens and blues blurring as I thought. "I wouldn't say upset," I finally said, shrugging. Feelings weren't my thing—never had been. Talking about them felt like peeling back my skin, and I'd rather take a rogue's claws than that.

Dr. Ellis nodded, jotting another note. "So, Kyan, you've been having issues with anger?" It came out more like a statement than a question, her eyes flicking to the clipboard as she wrote, barely glancing my way.

"No," I said, crossing my arms tight across my chest, the fabric of my dark green shirt pulling against my shoulders. Defensive, maybe, but I wasn't about to spill my guts.

She looked up, hazel eyes locking onto mine, one eyebrow arching in that way that said she wasn't buying it. "Then what are you doing here?" She tapped her pen against the clipboard, then resumed writing, the sound a quiet taunt.

I leaned forward, elbows digging into my thighs, and stared at my hands—knuckles still faintly bruised from Shane's jaw three nights ago. "It's not like I wanted this," I said, my voice low, nerves twitching under my skin. "He was hurting Diana, and I got angry. That's it."

She lifted her gaze again, steady and unblinking. "So, do you still have feelings for her?" The question landed like a stone, calm but heavy.

Frustration flared, hot and sharp. "I never had feelings for her in a relationship way," I snapped, louder than I meant. "It was purely sex—done and dusted. We're just friends now. I have trouble getting close to people, okay?" My hands clenched, nails biting into my palms, the memory of Diana's bruised face and pregnant scent from the cell still raw.

Her lips curved into a half-smile, not pitying, just... knowing. "Would you like to elaborate?" she asked, softening her tone. "You don't have to if you're not ready.

"I slumped back, arms crossing again, a wall slamming up inside me. My past—Mom and Dad gone at six, me alone, stealing at eight—was a locked box, rusted shut. Shauna was the only one I'd ever felt comfortable telling, late nights after patrols over too many beers, her hazel eyes soft with understanding and care as I'd spilled the mess of losing my folks. I wasn't cracking it open here. "Not really," I muttered, turning my head to stare at the bookshelf, its spines worn and faded.

Dr. Ellis didn't push, just watched me for a beat, her gaze assessing but kind. "So, your anger stems from a broken relationship?" she ventured, eyes boring into mine, no clipboard this time.

"None of your business," I growled, sharper than intended, twisting away to glare at the wall. My pulse thumped, irritation simmering.

"Kyan," she started, her voice steady, "we don't have to talk about that. We can discuss anything you want—your past, your future, whatever feels right. But we're doing this every few days, so let's find something that works." She smiled, warm and patient, setting her pen down.

I grunted, flicking my eyes away, the lavender scent suddenly cloying. Shauna's face flashed in my mind—her quiet nod, the way she'd looked at me with care when I'd told her about my parents—but I shoved it down. "Fine," I said, relenting. "I'll tell you about what I want for the future." I launched into it—finding my mate, building a cabin deep in the woods, raising a pack of kids with her, a life free of this tangled mess. The words tumbled out, rough at first, then smoother, painting a picture I hadn't realized I'd held so clear. Time slipped away, the clock's tick fading into the background.

Dr. Ellis stood, snapping me back. "Well, we're out of time. Great job today," she said, tucking her clipboard under her arm. "I'll see you in a few days." Her smile was genuine, and I felt a flicker of relief—I'd survived round one.

I returned a quick smile, standing to stretch my stiff legs, and slipped out into the hall. The pack house buzzed faintly—distant voices, the clatter of lunch prep—but I aimed straight for my room, craving quiet. My boots thudded on the hardwood, the ache in my jaw from Cade's old training punch a dull echo, a reminder of how things had shifted since he'd become alpha.

"Hey!" Electra's voice rang out behind me, bright and sharp. I turned, watching her jog toward me, her ponytail bouncing, green eyes glinting with that familiar spark from our Zombies game three days back. She stopped close, too close, her wildflower scent hitting me like a wave. "So... how'd the first session go?"

"Terrible," I said, half-smiling, shifting my weight. "I'm not good at talking about feelings.

"She crossed her arms, tilting her head. "It couldn't have been that bad," she said, her tone teasing, but her gaze held a flicker of concern.

I mirrored her stance, arms folding tight, discomfort crawling up my spine. "Was there something you wanted?" I asked, nudging her off the topic, my voice gruffer than I meant.

Her mouth popped open, a quick gasp, then she grinned as if remembering. "I was wondering if you'd go for a run with me?" She shifted her feet, nervous energy crackling off her. "Figured it'd help you let off some steam.

"I raised an eyebrow, not sold—running with her meant risking Cade's radar, and after his warning two months ago, I was on thin ice. "Kyan," he'd growled, hazel eyes hard, "I've heard the stories from the pack—you've been sleeping around—and I'll be damned if Electra gets near that. Mess with her when she gets back, and you're out. Packless. Done. Swear it." I'd nodded, muttered, "I swear," to keep my beta spot, figuring it'd be easy with her away. Now she was here, hitting me with those puppy-dog eyes, wide and pleading, and my resolve crumbled. "Fine," I sighed, "but only an hour."

"Yay!" she chirped, practically bouncing as she led the way to the back door, her enthusiasm infectious despite my grumbling.

We hit the forest edge, the late afternoon sun dappling the ground in gold and shadow. I veered toward my usual oak, its gnarled branches a familiar marker, and started peeling off my shirt, forgetting who was with me. Jeans followed, kicked aside—not everyone was like me, shrugging off modesty like it was nothing. I'd never cared who saw me shift; half the pack had caught me stark naked on patrol over the years, and I'd just grinned. Electra, though—she'd always been different, even as a kid. Preferred modesty, slipping behind trees or bushes to change, not one to just strip down in front of anybody. A gasp jolted me mid-motion, and I glanced over—she'd spun away, hands shielding her eyes, cheeks flaming red.

"Sorry," I said, laughing, the sound rough in my throat as I tugged off the last of my clothes, tossing them into a pile. "Forgot you're not me."

"I'll, uh, change over here," she stammered, darting behind a cluster of pines ten feet off, her voice muffled by embarrassment and the rustle of fabric. She'd always been like that—scooting off to shift in private, even when we'd raced as kids with Cade, her modesty a quiet contrast to my give-no-damns attitude.

I shifted fast, bones popping, fur rippling over me until I stood as my wolf—dark grey, nearly black, broad and lean. Electra padded out moments later, her wolf a striking cream, lighter than I'd expected, her coat shimmering in the sun. She was smaller than me, but not by much—bigger than most female wolves in the pack, her alpha blood giving her an edge. My wolf was just a hair shy of Cade's size, even without the alpha boost, a fact I'd always taken quiet pride in.

I shook out my limbs, claws flexing into the dirt, and she mirrored me, her tail flicking. We took off, pacing each other through the underbrush, no rush, just the steady thud of paws on soil. Pine needles crunched underfoot, the air crisp with earth and sap, the forest alive around us—birds trilling, a squirrel darting up a trunk. My jaw's ache faded, the run smoothing out the edges of the day's tension—Dr. Ellis's questions, Cade's looming threat—Electra's presence a quiet hum beside me.

After a while, her voice cut through the mind link, playful and clear. "Hey, Kyan—try and catch me!" She giggled, a bright sound in my head, and bolted ahead, her cream tail a blur.

Instinct kicked in—chase, hunt, catch. My legs surged, muscles coiling and releasing, the gap shrinking fast. She glanced back, eyes wide, a gasp echoing through the link. Guess she hadn't banked on me closing in so quick. I grinned, teeth bared, the thrill sparking through me as I swiped a paw at her back legs. She stumbled, tumbling into the moss with a yelp, and I leaped, landing over her, paws pinning her shoulders. She lay on her back, cream fur stark against the green, my dark form looming above.

Her laugh burst into my mind, rich and unguarded, her muzzle stretched in a wolfish grin. I couldn't help it—I laughed too, a deep rumble, the sound mingling with hers. "You've gotten a lot faster," she said, her tone warm, almost proud.

"So have you," I replied, a swell of something—pride, maybe?—rising in my chest. She'd come a long way from the scrappy kid I'd raced through these woods years ago, always ducking behind a tree to shift. Then it hit me, a reckless urge I couldn't dodge. My wolf took over, and I licked her cheek—a quick, impulsive swipe, warm and wet against her fur. Time froze. Her laugh cut off, her eyes widening, mine mirroring them as my gut dropped.

Licking a wolf's face was a kiss, a claim, a line I'd just vaulted over. I'd kissed Electra—Cade's sister—and panic clawed up my throat. "We should head back," I said, scrambling off her, my voice tight through the link. She rolled to her feet, shaking out her coat, and we started back, silence thick as fog between us. My mind screamed at me—stupid, stupid, stupid—each step a reprimand as we retraced our path to the pack house, Cade's warning roaring louder: "Mess with her, and you're out. Packless. Done."

The trees thinned, and we split to shift back, me yanking on my clothes with shaking hands behind the oak, her rustling behind her pines. When I emerged, she was waiting, human again, her jeans scuffed with dirt, her tee clinging to her frame. She wouldn't meet my eyes, her cheeks pink, and I shoved my hands deep into my pockets, staring at the ground. "That was... uh, fun," she mumbled, kicking a pebble, her voice strained.

"Yeah," I croaked, throat dry. "Fun." The word felt hollow, Cade's deal—no flirting, no trouble, or I'm packless—a noose tightening in my mind. We trudged back to the house, the awkwardness a third shadow trailing us, my wolf still buzzing with the taste of her cheek and the dread of what I'd just done.