Chapter Thirty Nine

Dawn broke over the pack’s land, golden light filtering through the trees and spilling into their bedroom. The warmth of the sun barely registered against the heat of Kade’s body wrapped around Briar.

She stirred, but before she could move, strong arms tightened around her waist, pulling her back against the solid wall of his chest. His lips brushed over her bare shoulder, lazy but possessive.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was husky from sleep, a low growl against her skin.

Briar smirked, tilting her head to glance at him over her shoulder. “I have responsibilities, Alpha.”

He groaned, his grip on her hips firm as he rolled her beneath him in one smooth motion. His weight was a welcome pressure, his dark eyes burning with the same hunger that never seemed to fade between them.

“Your first responsibility,” he murmured, dragging his lips along the curve of her neck, “is to me.”

She let out a breathy laugh, but it caught in her throat when his teeth scraped lightly over her skin. He was teasing her, playing with her just because he could.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured.

“And you love it.” His smirk was wicked as he pressed a kiss just below her jaw.

She did. Goddess help her, she did.

But there was work to be done, no matter how much she wanted to let him devour her all over again. She braced a hand against his chest and pushed—though it was less about resistance and more about reminding him that she wasn’t just his Luna in name.

She was his equal.

Kade’s eyes darkened at the challenge, but he allowed it, rolling onto his back with an amused huff. Briar slipped from the bed, stretching as she moved to the wardrobe. She could feel his gaze trailing over her, hungry even now, even after everything they had shared last night.

“You’re staring,” she teased, pulling on a soft shirt.

“You should be used to that by now.” Kade propped himself on one elbow, his expression unreadable, though his smirk gave him away.

Briar rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the warmth spreading through her.

Being with him was like standing too close to the fire—dangerous, consuming, but something she’d never turn away from.

She turned back to him, tilting her head. “If you don’t get up soon, I’ll be running this pack alone today.”

Kade stretched like a predator, all lazy strength and power. “We both know they’d still come to me.”

She arched a brow, already moving toward the door. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to prove them wrong.”

His laughter followed her out.

By midday, Briar was at Kade’s side as they moved through the heart of the pack’s territory. Wolves passed them, some nodding in respect, others still cautious in their acceptance. Briar felt their stares, their quiet judgment, but she didn’t shrink from it.

She had earned her place here—and she would prove it.

Kade’s hand brushed against the small of her back, a silent show of support, of unity. She didn’t need it, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“Training’s going well,” Briar noted as they approached the sparring grounds, her sharp gaze taking in the movements of the younger wolves as they shifted and fought to perfect their forms. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and earth, mingling with the crisp bite of the forest beyond the clearing. Muscles rippled beneath shifting skin as the wolves honed their craft, their growls and grunts blending into a symphony of effort and discipline.

Kade stood beside her, his presence steady and unshakable. His arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes watching the trainees with the quiet intensity that made him such a formidable Alpha. “They’re getting stronger,” he admitted, voice low and contemplative. “But strength isn’t everything. They need control.”

Briar nodded, her attention landing on Jace, one of the youngest members of the pack. He had just shifted back into his human form but stumbled, his body collapsing into the dirt with an exasperated curse. His frustration was written in every tense muscle, every sharp inhale as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, panting.

Before she could offer encouragement, Kade was already moving. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind that demanded attention without needing to ask for it. The sparring wolves took note, instinctively shifting to give their Alpha space, their own training momentarily forgotten as they watched the exchange.

Jace met Kade’s gaze with barely veiled frustration, his youthful pride warring with his clear respect for his leader.

“Again,” Kade commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.

Jace hesitated, his body tensing as if he wanted to protest, but something in Kade’s unwavering stare made him think better of it. He clenched his jaw and shifted once more, his form rippling with raw energy as fur overtook skin. His transition was fast but sloppy, his paws barely steadying beneath him before he was forced back into his human shape. He collapsed again, chest heaving.

Kade didn’t waver. “Again.”

Briar felt something stir in her as she watched Kade work—not just as the Alpha enforcing discipline but as the mentor who refused to let his pack settle for less than their full potential. He was patient, but not soft. Firm, but not cruel.

Jace grit his teeth and tried once more, sweat beading along his brow. This time, when he landed on all fours, he was steadier. More controlled.

A slow smile pulled at the corners of Kade’s lips. “Better,” he said simply.

Jace’s chest swelled with quiet pride, but he remained silent, nodding once before preparing for the next attempt.

Briar’s fingers curled slightly as she studied Kade, the way he carried himself with effortless authority, the way he commanded without needing to raise his voice. He wasn’t just an Alpha by blood—he was a leader by action, by sheer presence.

And it was a reminder of why she had fallen for him so hard, so fast.

“You’re good at this,” she murmured, just for him, her voice cutting through the din of the training ground.

Kade turned his head toward her, the heat of his gaze meeting hers. Something like pride flickered in those dark depths, but beneath it, something softer—something only she got to see.

“So are you,” he replied, his voice dropping into that intimate, gravelly tone that sent warmth curling through her.

The words settled deep inside her, steadying her, reassuring her. They were still learning—about their leadership, about each other—but the fire between them burned just as fiercely as it had that first night.

And Briar had no doubt it always would.