The arena’s crowd roared with cheers and jeers as two gigantic beasts fought under the dry sun in the red sands of the colosseum. A golden lion, fierce, muscular, and unmatched in the wild, dodged a vicious snap of cruel fangs from a powerful silver wolf. Undeterred, the wolf twisted its front paw and angled its body straight for the lion’s thick throat.

A sickening crunch thundered throughout the colosseum, causing a rippling silence among the crowd, before they erupted in a roar.

The wolf’s fangs sank into the lion’s front leg, and the lion lifted his paw, intending to smash the wolf into the sand. Before the impact, the wolf unclenched her jaws, springing a few paces in front of the lion and recovering with a deep growl.

Amongst the deafening crowd, a petite woman sat with silver hair curling down to the small of her back. Her olive skin was covered by a ragged robe. She flinched; her hands locked in prayer. 

“Great Mother, protect Sylva,” she whispered frantically, repeating the plea over and over as her crystal eyes locked with the wolf’s silver hues.

Is this to be her life? She thought. To sit on the sidelines as her best friend fights to the death?

Secretly, she knew Sylva would prefer it this way. Sylva was a dominant wolf; bred to hunt, fuck, and protect those she considered pack. In contrast, Larissa, the wolf watching from afar, was a submissive one, bred to care for the den and attend to the emotional needs of the pack.

But now, they were both pack-less. Sylva’s father had driven them out of their territory because Larissa refused to mate with him. He wasn’t her chosen mate—the one the All Mother selects from birth for all were-shifters to adore—but he didn’t care and lacked honor. He proved this when Sylva issued the challenge to take over the pack. He refused and instead held a clawed finger to Sylva’s mother’s throat, forcing them to decide: flee, or she would die.

The lions pounce snapped Larissa from her musings, and captured the wolf in its maw. Larissa clenched her eyes shut as the booming crowd roared. Seconds passed, silence, and a resounding crunch echoed throughout the arena.

“Please, Great Mother, protect her, please protect her,” she pleaded, eyes clenched and body twisted away. Seconds ticked by, and then a familiar howl boomed in victory. Larissa sprang to her feet and howled with her friend while the crowd cheered.

She looked down, noting the huge silver wolf sitting with pride and blood on her muzzle. The lion lay dead beside her, his neck snapped in two, and the wolf let loose a wolfish grin. Larissa grinned back and immediately made her way to the exit.

***

The stench of alcohol hit Larissa first as she made way through the combatant’s quarters. A few dominant males passed her, giving her puzzled looks, but initiated nothing further as she pushed towards her best friend, Sylva. She quickened her pace as she heard her friend in a heated argument.

“What do you mean only 70 silvers?! You promised me a 100 old man!” Sylva snarled, towering over the burly man with a peppered beard, and tan breeches.

“Ya heard me, lass! Ya killed my only lion shifter, and now I gotta pay men to fetch a new one! So I’m docking it from you!” he growled back, holding his stare but not daring to challenge her. The old man looked strong, but she stood taller, muscles rippling over her sun-kissed skin.

Sylva was an alpha wolf dominant, and it showed in her proud features that no shifter with sense dared to mess with. Unlike Larissa, whose proud features were her bust and thighs.

Larissa sighed as Sylva snarled but snatched the bag from the old man’s grasp. She turned in a huff and approached Larissa with a sorry grin.

“Sorry you saw that, Larissa. I know you hate arguments,” Sylva stated. Larissa shook her head playfully, her eyes twinkling as she pulled her friend into a hug.

“True, but I was more worried about your fight with the lion shifter.” Larissa pulled away, fretting over Sylva with concerned eyes.

Sylva waved her off. “Don’t be a puppy. I could’ve snapped his neck in the beginning, but the crowd wanted a show.” She scoffed, spreading her arms wide. “Who am I to deny them?”

Larissa lightly slapped her friend’s shoulder and growled. “I’d rather you be alive than worry about that.”

Sylva chuckled in response, holding out her arm for Larissa to take. Without hesitation she took it, and they made their way out into the sunny street.

Larissa cowed a bit into her friend’s side. Dominant shifters stench littered the streets and each person that passed made her hairs bristle. The last one that passed was a hyena shifter, and she had a keen interest in Larissas behind.

“Calm down, Larissa, you’re safe.” Sylva reassured her. “I won’t let anyone touch you, I swear it.”

Larissa sighed, taking in her friend’s scent. It conjured an image of forest and trees, and she felt a sadness starting to brew within her throat. She immediately swallowed it down.

The Silverfangs pack was no longer her home, and soon Larissa and Sylva would start a new pack, but first.

They needed land, they needed wolves, and most importantly… They needed an audience with the vampire queen.

***

Larissa had always known that Sylva, destined to be the next alpha of their pack, would be her lifelong friend. Unlike most dominants, Sylva protected the submissives, listened to them, and ensured they were well-fed.

Any one of them would have offered their throat to her, even Larissa, knowing that while Sylva wasn’t her mate, she was her love all the same.

But Sylva craved the love that only a fated mate could bring, and Larissa believed she deserved nothing less.

A blossom scent drew Larissa from her thoughts as a hooded figure passed by, slightly bumping into Sylva. The stranger swiftly fell to her knees, apologizing frantically. “Please forgive me! Forgive!” she begged, clutching Sylva’s hips and rubbing against her thighs.

Sylva nostrils flared.

A submissive wolf, Larissa thought, like me.

It was a simple bump, a slight mistake, and if it was any other dominant, she bumped into, it would’ve cost her, her life, or her dignity.

Sylva immediately bent down, lifting the woman by the palms, and whispering. “Be at ease girl, you are safe.”

Larissa spotted jade eyes widening with disbelief, and under the stranger’s hood, a grimace formed. She was attractive for a submissive wolf, with milky skin, high cheekbones, and delicate lips that would make any dominant blush.

Sylva thought so too, a familiar scent of arousal mixing in with trees and blossoms… Larissa swallowed the chuckle pushing past her throat and poked Sylva’s ribs, signaling her to let the girl go.

Sylva took the hint, coughing into her palm, but in a blink, the other girl was gone.

Wrinkling her snout and narrowing her eyes, Sylva patted her pockets suspiciously, then immediately bolted.

Larissa shouted, following in confusion, “What? What’s happening? Why are we running?!”

Sylva growled back.

“That bitch stole my wallet!” Fangs erupted from Sylva as she lifted her snout and sniffed the air. She snarled, continuing the pursuit in a sprint, and leading them into a dark alley way.

The thief appeared in view, struggling against three male shifters who towered over her with leering grins.

Sylva immediately snapped into action, claws jutting from her fingers and piercing one shifter’s jugular, causing him to collapse in a pool of blood. The other two, now on alert, snapped their fangs at her, but she swiftly dodged and kicked one in the gut.

 The thief immediately bolted at Sylva’s intervention but abruptly stopped as Larissa pulled her by the wrist into a crushing embrace. The thief struggled for a bit but submitted with endless whines.

The second dominant male collapsed, and the third started to flee. Without hesitation, Sylva pounced and snapped his neck with a sickening crunch. She spat him out of her maw, scowling as she turned to face the thief.

Sylva prowled closer, each step amplifying the stench of fear. She halted mere inches from them and briskly snatched the hood off the thief, causing black locks to tumble down and frame her face.

A sharp inhale of breath caught Larissa’s attention, and she glanced at Sylva with a puzzled look.

 Instantly, Sylva snapped her fangs mere inches from the thief’s face, spittle landing on her nose and causing her to flinch. The thief lowered her gaze with a whine, nestling against the dominant’s neck and licking it in full submission.

Sylva rumbled a pleased growl and dug into the smaller wolf’s pockets, pulling out her pouch. “What’s your name? Who’s your pack?” she inquired.

Cautiously, the strange wolf peeled away from Sylva’s neck, her milky skin drenched in sweat that made Sylva growl. Larissa released her. “My name is Lyra, and I never had a pack. I was sold as a pup.”

Hatred instantly boiled within Larissa’s gut. Most submissive pups were sold by pack alphas to maintain control over the dominant members of the pack, and for a handsome sum too, since wolf shifters were rare outside pack populations. Especially submissive ones, who often ended up in shifter mills.

Larissa shuddered and immediately pulled Lyra into a hug. The scent of confusion hit Larissa like a brick, and she pulled away, murmuring, “You must be a very strong wolf to last this long, Lyra.”

Lyra tilted her head, her soft features twisting in annoyance, and turned her attention back to the dominant wolf. “So now you know my name, snagged back your purse…” Her gaze lowered as she whispered. “What will you do now?”

Silver eyes bore into jade hues, and Sylva huffed with an outstretched hand. “You stink of fear and need a bath.” Sylva snagged both Larissa and Lyra by the hand, gently leading them out the alley. “I think we all do.”  

***

They left the city shortly after that, arriving back at their den near a crystal-clear lake. Lyra whistled, “not bad, I never really left the city other than to run within the trees so—” Larissa ignored Lyra’s nervous rambles and focused her attention on her best friend.

The stench of arousal hung heavily around Sylva as she paid close attention to Lyra’s perky breasts, but wrinkled her nose when her gaze shifted to her bony ribs.

Larissa narrowed her crystal eyes and signaled for Sylva to speak with her. Sylva, undressed from her robe, and reluctantly pried her gaze from Lyra and marched over.

“What?” Sylva huffed.

“You like her? Don’t you?” Larissa questioned, and Sylva scoffed.

“She’s attractive yes.” Her eyes trailed back to Lyra. “But like is a bit of stretch,” Sylva folded her arms over her chest. “She stole my wallet.”

Larissa lightly chuckled and shook head asking.

“So, you invited her to a bath?” Larissa wiggled her nose. “And invited her to our den?”

Sylva rolled her eyes. “Yes and?” She snarled and Larissa lowered her gaze to the dirt, tilting her head and revealing her throat. “Look, she’s a lone wolf like us, she has no pack.” Sylva grimaced. “It must’ve been hard out there, alone, especially for subs like her.”

Larissa sighed and shook her head. Her friend was the softest dominant she had ever met, and she adored her for it, but the gaze Sylva had for Lyra held more than concern, and seeds of worry planted within her belly.

She playfully slapped her friend on the back, quenching her worried thoughts, and breaking Sylva’s gaze from Lyra rinsing her midnight locks.

“Come on alpha, let’s wash the stench of the city away and invite our friend for a run.” Larissa entered the lake; her body being soothed by the clear water as her mind raced miles a second. Her crystal eyes lingered upon her best friend as she approached the smaller wolf with fascinating interest.

An attraction that buds for a wolf is like a blooming flower that never wilts, her grandmother once said this, teaching her about fated mates. A saying she kept in the back of her mind ever since she met Sylva.

Larissa’s head dipped deeper into the lake as she blew bubbles sullenly within it. Rolling her eyes as she witnessed Lyra swaying her hips, and seducing Sylva to come hither. She doubted the two even understood what they were doing, most fated mates rarely do until it clicks.

***

Sylva adored running in her wolf form within the trees of the forest surrounding the city and housing her den. She glanced backward, noting two smaller wolves on her heels: one silver on her right, the other midnight black. Her gaze lingered longer on the black wolf before turning her attention to the front.

As the dominant within the group, it was her job to make sure these two were protected and fed, even if the black wolf was a new addition. It didn’t matter to Sylva. Her ears flickered at the sound of snapping branches. Immediately, Sylva sped off in that direction and pounced on the clumsy buck that had made the mistake of stepping on a branch. Her cruel fangs snapped onto the buck’s throat, and within seconds, the buck stilled.

Her ears flickered as her charges approached. She laid the buck down, ripping its throat out and devouring it. Larissa followed suit, mainly targeting the buck’s thick thighs—she always had a thing for thighs. Sylva noted Lyra pawing at the ground, unsure of what to do.

An idea clicked into Sylva’s mind. She tore off its front leg, trotted to Lyra happily, and laid the leg in front of her, inviting her to eat as she pushed the leg towards Lyra with her snout. Lyra tilted her head, curious, and sniffed the leg. She gave it a cautious lick and took a bite. Sylva felt her belly grow warm as Lyra dug in, and a pleased growl escaped her.

She went back to the buck carcass, noting Larissa was about to snatch the other leg. She snarled at Larissa, snapping her fangs at her and causing her to flop onto her belly.

In a show of dominance, Sylva lowered her fangs to Larissa’s neck and lightly bit it. She let go after a few seconds and went to the buck’s leg, tearing it off and giving it to Lyra. Lyra barked happily, and Sylva rumbled a noise in acknowledgment.

She looked down at Larissa, glancing at her curiously, and noted a flicker of jealousy within her crystal hues. Immediately, Larissa ducked her head and went back to the meal.