Lone Star Mountain belonging to the night

Noctura watched her silently as she spoke. There was truth in what she said, and an intelligent optimism, but also either enormous faith or quiet naiveté. For even though she was an Alpha she was young, and not only that but she clearly didn’t see any danger in Noctura — or if she did then she was doing a very good job of hiding it. She was out here alone, small and not well-muscled. Perhaps she could move like the wind, but Noctura had longer legs. Had she considered that he might be a threat? Did she know that her best chance of survival was to outrun him and hope never to see him again?

Perhaps she simply trusted his apparent tameness. And yes, perhaps that was what he needed — someone to believe in him, and motivate him to overcome his primal instincts and rejoin civilisation. But that was not enough for him to risk what might end up being a brutal massacre and the end of his own life. Nor was the promise of spending more time around this charming girl.

If I failed at pack life, I don’t think that failure would come in the form of a peaceful departure, he confessed. He looked down into her eyes. They were silver, like his, vivid like the moon. There was absolutely nothing about Noctura that came close to submission — but nor was it dominance. He simply stood, tall and intimidating, neither trying to stare her down or submit. It seemed as if he were a statue who’d held this stance his entire life and knew no other way. In his life with Crunch he’d been led to believe that the only way his body could be made to submit was by force — and what physical force was there in the lissome little beast he saw before him?

My soul might be inclined to join a pack — and to follow you, beautiful stranger. But my instinct has known nothing but aggression. I know of the hierarchy of packs, and as much respect as I have to those of strong character — such as yourself — I’ve never bowed my head. I could simply make myself, he confirmed, and play at Omega, I’m sure it’s easy enough. But I’m… I’m not in control of my more violent instincts. It was a shameful confession, said quietly. But this female deserved the truth. I was raised the reflection of a brute who answers to no one.