Who’s It Going to Be?

Aviva

Alpha Ryan shifts back to his human form, cloaked in shadows. He’s breathing heavily as he lumbers through the camp, crouching to rip into a clothing cache. 

I watch his shadow in silence, my heart beating out of rhythm. I only look away when the wind parts the treetops and allows moonlight to spread over the clearing again, illuminating the hellhound lying broken and in pieces at the very edge of the tree line. 

It takes two shallow breaths before it starts to fall in on itself, turning to ash that’s carried away by the wind. 

I slowly turn my gaze back to Alpha Ryan who is standing now, wearing a pair of pants that don’t fit him at all, the button holding them in place undone. Moonlight ghosts over his frame. Instead of tight, wiry muscles, he’s just… huge. There’s nothing lean about him. I can see the outline of his abdominals as he turns slightly to face me. The muscles in his che