Tangled With The Fated Mates

The Full Moon

Denzel's Pov

Denzel Anderson stirs; he doesn't open his eyes yet as he's still groggy from sleep. He'd just woken up from a profound sleep.

The previous night, they had marked the time of the month when the full moon was at its highest point. The Wolves of the Blackmoon pack, him their Alpha included, had stayed up till very early the next day running and fleeting through forests of aspens and beech and pines with dense undergrowth, frolicking and hunting, fevered baying and barking wolves scattered all over rolling hills deep in the woods that formed the heart of their territory.

The full moon was high in the sky, and they had felt its pull, the substance of the Lunar body tugging at their whole hearts. The sheer energy of its light had seemed to course through their lupine veins.

At intervals last night, Denzel had climbed onto ledges and rock outcroppings, lifted his snout at the moon, and howled out of his whole heart his worship and affection for the moon.

All over the territory, his pack had paused and lifted their snouts and howled their equal affection, their howls ringing out from all over in bone-chilling harmony.

They had dispersed and returned to town exhausted but in high spirits after their Alpha had called off the hunt just as dawn had begun to change the indigo-blue of the well-lit night into lighter shades of blue.

Humans would be waking up any minute now, and they didn't need any unnecessary attention drawn to their activities. Their Wolf ancestors had kept their existence and knowledge of their activities hidden for numerous generations before them, and they had to remain that way, hidden.

Humans had the bad habit of fearing what they couldn't understand, and that fear, more often than not, turned into hate, which spawned violence. They could, of course, deal with hostility from humans; after all, what could the humans possibly do to harm them?

They were faster and more robust than humans, and with their much more heightened lupine senses, it was near impossible for humans to hunt them down using stealth.

If they didn't already smell them from a mile away, they'd hear their fragile hearts beating from yards away. Besides, they couldn't be found unless they wanted to be.

They didn't conceal themselves from humans out of fear; it was much easier to avoid opening the can of worms discovered by humans.

As they'd shifted from their wolf form, he had called out for his Beta. Still, Reid had been unaccounted for, leading Denzel to conclude that he had either taken off earlier or was still out hunting and had strayed far from their territories, which would be an overly reckless and irresponsible thing to do.

Denzel had hoped it was the former. He was livid, though; he'd expected to confer with his Beta on what to do about the Bluefur pack.

The pack of rogue vagabonds had lately been encroaching on their territories, and knowledge of this had begun to cause undertones of unease within the pack.

He wanted to do something about it and nip the threat in the bud before it became a stubborn branch that'd poke them all in the eye.

But Reid Venigor was not exactly known for being very responsible, and here he was not only putting himself and potentially the entire pack at risk of premature conflict with the rogues but also risking being discovered by early bird humans who were already awake and about at that time of day.

Since the death of his parents when he'd taken over as Alpha, he'd kept pack activities running smoothly. As his orders and policies stemmed from very well-thought-out plans, he expected to be obeyed to the letter and disliked deviations from them. Deviations meant disorder, which in turn led to chaos.

Lately, though Reid seemed to do as he wished, almost deliberately disobeying especially, he seemed to have agendas of his own.

Denzel cared little for whatever plan he had going on. He just needed to know that whatever it was didn't interfere with the pack's welfare and his responsibility to it. The Pack needed to see that It was safe and cared for, or It would lose faith in Its Alpha and overthrow him.

He hated the idea of disappointing them more than he feared death at their hands, though. He would have to call Reid to order. For now, though, he had to get home. His bed – with his lover in it – awaited him.

Denzel heaved a breath and blinked open his eyes. It was clear daylight already, and his large glass windows allowed a lot of light into his bedroom area, so it was pretty bright in there, white curtains billowing over them.

A glance at his classic (80s Japanese) bedside digital clock told him it was just past noon. He looked over to his right, reaching for his lover simultaneously. His hands landed on empty sheets just a half second before seeing that she was no longer in bed. He rolled over sluggishly and sat up as his lips parted to call her.

"Looking for me?" Nira said in her characteristic soft voice as she walked in, hips swaying, carrying a steaming mug.

"Good morning, baby," he replied, grinning. She looked so beautiful in his eyes with her auburn hair and sharply defined jaw; her skin looked radiant in the bright room, and her gorgeous petite body looked lithe in his oversized flannel shirt reaching down to her mid-thighs. He knew she was wearing very little underneath.

"Good morning, my love," she muttered, smiling. She'd reached where he sat and handed him the mug. She reached down to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"It's past noon just by a bit, but I know just how much you love your coffee, so there you go,"

"Ah," he breathed as he took a sip and leaned back, "I needed this."

"Yeah, and there's a truck coming up the driveway," she said over her shoulder as she began to walk away, "it looks like Reid's."

So that was why he'd woken up. It must've been all that crunching of tires on gravel as the truck had driven up to the house.