He followed the scent trail of the others and halted on a granite ledge where the mountain abruptly shot into the clouds when he spotted the wolf watching from the top of an outcrop of stone leading higher. Around him, the other guests twisted and writhed, limbs shortening, dense fur emerging, newly released claws scrabbling on the rock, but Arit noticed only peripherally, his attention focused on the shifter who was his equal in hurrying the transition to wolf.
Arit blinked, but the veil of drifting snowflakes hadn’t lied. Uninterrupted by the muddled gray fur common in the Ural tribe, the white wolf’s pelt gleamed brighter in the night than the crescent moon would’ve if storm clouds hadn’t concealed its light. He was no runt, either. The wolf stood tall and proud on the rocky outcropping above them, dense muscle bulging beneath the dazzling white fur that beckoned to Arit. Commanded him. The white wolf’s ears perked. His yellow-eyed gaze swept the plateau dotted with other guests yet transitioning into their beasts, as though the wolf stood guard over them during the vulnerable moments of the shift and would protect the group from all harm.
As if Arit could entertain any doubt of the wolf’s identity, the cheap gold locket gleamed at the beast’s throat, as good as a flashing neon sign.
Heart thudding against his ribcage, Arit shuffled his paws forward. He crept past the befuddled gray wolf that smelled like his sire, black fur tipping his ears similar to Arit’s, and ignored the wolf’s shake of his head and awkward attempt to rise from the cold ground. He inched around the wolf closest to the emperor, too, this beast a darker gray but with white fur like socks at his paws and throat. The emperor’s adopted brother was another lost noble, then. Figured. At least Rolan shook off the disorientation of the shift faster, already lifting from the dirt on steady legs. Arit couldn’t be distracted by them, though his wolf vibrated with eagerness to greet and learn the scents of these new wolves in his territory. Instead, he walked to the stony juts rimming the mountainside upon which the white wolf had climbed because nothing—nothing—was more important than reaching Arit’s mate. When Arit neared the foot of the boulder Nick had crested, Nick finally looked at him. Arit halted, barely resisting the instinct to whine and lower to his belly.
Alpha.
The white wolf was no omega, nor beta. Only another alpha could tempt Arit to cede to him, to bow or submit. Not that Arit did, either. The land was his, the shifters his to watch over during their stay in the Urals including Nick. Chest swelling with pride, Arit marched to the base of the rock, stare locked on the magnificent beast who should and would be his. He met Nick’s regal stare and, huffing out a breath, Nick broke whatever imperial training still lingered inside him to grin at Arit, Nick’s pink tongue lolling from his snout in glad welcome.
He was the most handsome wolf Arit had ever seen.
Arit choked off a warning growl as Rolan joined him, nudging Arit with his shoulder. He, too, stared up at the crown prince with adoring eyes, though not as a rival. Rolan truly did love him as a brother. Men lied, and in their human forms, devious shifters could learn to manipulate their scents to deceive, too. The wolf cared not for clever tricks, though. Rolan loved Nick with the same devotion reserved for family, and Arit sensed identical affection from Nick when he glanced down at Rolan at Arit’s side.
Rolan whined at the white wolf, Rolan’s head dipping to avert his gaze. He didn’t lower to his belly as an omega would have, but the deference of a beta was unmistakable.
Panting out a pleased breath, Nick turned and climbed down the rock. By the time he joined Arit and Rolan, Benjic had scrambled to Arit’s other side despite a low growl to his sire from Arit. Wolf or man, Benjic wasn’t stupid. He didn’t touch Arit. They didn’t brush against one another in greeting as Rolan and Nick did, nor did either of them lick the other’s snouts as Rolan lapped at Nick. Arit would’ve bitten and snapped at Benjic even for such a submissive posture simply for daring that degree of intimacy, but with the crown prince and his adopted brother’s happy welcome crowding him, Arit couldn’t escape proximity with his wily sire, either. Ears flicking with his annoyance, Arit glared at Benjic and waited for the rest of the group to complete their shifts as snowflakes drifted from the blackening sky.
Waited for his mate to acknowledge him.
Tail straight, ears perked, Nick finally faced Arit who did not cower at his mate’s authoritative stare. An emperor Nick may be, but between them, there was no such thing as royalty, station, or status. Only equally matched dominance and the wispy scent of aroused interest. If Arit had trouble squelching his desire for Nick while they were in both their human forms, denying his lust as his wolf was nigh impossible. His blood sizzled in his veins with their burgeoning mating heat. Arit couldn’t hide his craving, and as a wolf, trying wouldn’t have occurred to him. Nor did Nick attempt to mask what he wanted. His arousal was bare for Arit to see, in the darkening of his pupils in Nick’s shifter yellow eyes, to the ripe and bewitching scent taunting Arit to come closer. Arit’s fevered brain tempted him with the possibility of mounting Nick and being mounted by him, so much Arit trembled. The crown prince shook, too, and despite Nick’s fresh arrival to the Urals, Arit was willing to bet he shivered with desire rather than from the freezing temperatures.
Next to him, Benjic huffed and wagged his tail. As the rest of their group stumbled toward them, Benjic stretched out his front legs and raised his hind quarters in an invitation to play. Arit snarled at him, but loosing a joyful bark, Nick accepted by pivoting and streaking up the rocky mountainside.
Benjic and Rolan raced after him.
Tail high, Arit followed, too. Falling snow blew into his eyes and dusted the ground under his paws as he ran, stare hardly diverting from the white wolf sprinting ahead. Nick hadn’t shifted into this form since he was a young prince of the peoples coddled in elegant palaces. Arit remembered the reports breathlessly recounting the last emperor’s sacrifice in not shifting throughout the many seasons since the war to best hide him in the lands of men as well as cunning insinuations that perhaps more than ruthless self-control had blocked Nick from taking his animal form. Maybe, just maybe, the trauma of his family’s executions had robbed Nick of his ability to shift altogether. Nick had refused to parade his white wolf for the populace, and media had responded by implying Nick probably couldn’t.
Streaking through rocky crevices and the snow, Arit barked with the happiness filling him. Because the pretentious capitol shifters hadn’t only been wrong in assuming Nick was an omega. They’d been wrong about his ability to shift, too, wonderfully wrong.