Chapter 51
Skye’s POV
Ryder’s eyes found mine across the flickering campfire, his fingers poised over the guitar strings.
The intensity of his gaze made me shift uncomfortably where I sat on the ground.
I glanced toward Adrian, finding his amber eyes already fixed on us. His expression was thunderous, jaw clenched so tightly I could almost hear his teeth grinding from across the fire.
The hostility radiating from him was palpable, intense enough that several nearby pack members instinctively leaned away from their Alpha
Then Ryder began to play, and the tension temporarily dissolved as everyone’s attention shifted to the music. His fingers moved deftly across the strings, coaxing a melody both haunting and sweet from the instrument.
When he started singing, his voice carried surprising depth and emotion:
I’m tripping on you
Stone all the time
When you make me lose my mind
Kissing your lips with your hair in my face
Telling your lies With no disgrace…”
His voice rose with confidence as he reached the chorus:
“Couldn’t be better, better, better than this
Could it be better, better, better than this?
Better give me a kiss Your kiss, your kiss.”
I kept my expression carefully neutral as he continued through the second verse, though I could feel heat rising to my cheeks.
‘You’re here in my place
Up in my face and you’ll never let me rest
The Sun lights the day
As I find my way through
The dreams we chase and the nights we miss
It couldn’t be better, better, better than this
It could be better, better, better than this
Your kiss, your kiss…”
As the final note faded into the desert night, a moment of appreciative silence fell over the group before they erupted into applause and cheers.
Ryder’s face split into a wide grin, his boyish features alight with pleasure at their reception.
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Chapter 51
That was amazing!” one of the younger warriors called out. ‘What’s it called?”
Better Than This, Ryder replied, his voice carrying a hint of suggestion as his eyes remained fixed on me.
The group’s enthusiasm quickly morphed into something more mischievous. Several of the warriors began nudging each other, exchanging knowing la
‘So who’s the song for, Ryder? someone shouted, triggering a chorus of teasing whoops.
‘Yeah, spill it! Who’s got you writing love songs?”
Ryder’s grin widened as he adjusted his grip on the guitar, clearly preparing to make some grand declaration. My stomach dropped as he opened his mouth, his eyes locked firmly on mine across the fire. I silently willed him not to say my name, not to put me in this impossible position in front of the entire
group.
“It’s for- Ryder began, but was abruptly cut off.
“That was quite impressive, Adrian interjected, his voice carrying the unmistakable weight of Alpha authority despite its outward casualness. The song has genuine merit. Does anyone else have a performance to share tonight?”
The stark contrast between Adrian’s cold tone and his complimentary words created an immediate pall over the gathering. The previously animated atmosphere deflated like a punctured balloon, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.
Pack members exchanged uncertain glances, no one quite brave enough to fill the void Adrian had created.
After several excruciating seconds of silence, Nadia cleared her throat. “Well, it seems Ryder is Oasisborn’s sole musician,” she remarked dryly.
Her dark eyes scanned the assembled group before brightening with sudden inspiration.
“How about we try something more active? I have an idea–a hunting game I designed for training our younger wolves.
Interest immediately rekindled across the campsite. Nadia held up a finger, signaling us to wait as she strode purposefully toward the vehicles parked at the edge of our campsite.
When she returned moments later, she carried an assortment of masks in her arms–some crafted to resemble wolves, others shaped like rabbits.
‘Perfect for a full moon night,’ she announced, holding the masks aloft. The pack members leaned forward with renewed interest, the earlier tension forgotten in the face of potential entertainment.
“The rules are simple, Nadia explained, sorting the masks into two piles. “Those who draw wolf masks are hunters. Those who draw rabbit masks are prey. For one hour, hunters will track and capture as many rabbits as possible, while the rabbits try to evade capture.
A younger warrior raised his hand. “So the winners are the wolves who catch the most rabbits?”
“Yes,” Nadia confirmed, “but also any rabbits who manage to remain uncaught by the end of the hour.”
The warrior’s brow furrowed in confusion. “So prey can win too?”
Nadia’s lips curved into a rare smile. “Survival is its own victory, wouldn’t you say?”
I couldn’t help but appreciate the wisdom in her approach. Unlike traditional werewolf hunting festivals where only the strongest predators were celebrated Nadia’s game honored both the hunter’s skill and the prey’s cunning.
One by one, pack members approached Nadia to randomly select a mask. When my turn came, I reached into the pile without looking and pulled out a rabbit mask. I slipped it over my face, securing the elastic band behind my head.
Ryder groaned loudly nearby. “Seriously?” he complained, holding up his own rabbit mask with obvious disappointment. Im the pack’s best marksman, and get to be prey?”
‘Luck of the draw,” Nadia replied unsympathetically before turning back to the group. “Any other complaints before we begin?
Chapter 51
My attention was drawn to Adrian as he selected his mask a wolf, naturally. Our eyes met briefly as he secured it or his features, the carved wooden wilf transforming his already imposing presence into something truly predatory.
Beside him, Nadia donned her own wolf mask. The two of them turned toward me simultaneously, their masked fares revealing nothing while sometuer conveying everything about their intentions.
I was prey, and they were hunters. The realization sent an unexpected thrill down my spine.
“Rabbits, Nadia called out, her voice slightly muffled behind her mask, ‘you have ten minutes to hide. Use them wisely. The hunt begins when you hear the Alpha’s howl.”
The rabbits immediately scattered, disappearing into the darkness surrounding our campsite. As I prepared to run, Ryder appeared at my side, his rabbit mask pushed up to rest atop his head.
“Let’s stick together,‘ he suggested eagerly. ‘I can protect you.”
I shook my head firmly. “Your werewolf scent is too strong. You’ll only make us both easier to track. I gestured toward the darkened landscape. ‘I’ll be better off on my own.”
Before he could protest further, I darted away from the firelight, sprinting toward the deepening shadows of the canyon.
My silver wolf stirred within me, lending extra speed to my movements as I raced into the darkness, heart pounding with the primitive thrill of the chase– even if I was the one being chased.
Author’s Note:
The song Better than This in the story was written by my friend Trevor. I hope that by the time I finish writing this book, my wonderful friends will have completed the recording of the song.
To all my cherished readers, I would love to hear your thoughts–did this story find a place in your heart?
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