Rut Season

The autumn cold confirms one thing in shifter society. It’s rut season…

I was born into a strong family of shifters. Thing about shifters is we form large pack clans. Many families. Every member of the pack and their family is part of the greater clan of shifters, among howlers.

But only our strongest most capable warriors form the Delta Pack. The Delta Pack is the protection of the clan. We defend the pack from outside threats like sigmas, and enemy clans, or shifter hunters and serkers.

The Delta Pack is led by the Alpha. His fated mate, and consort, is his Luna. She as the Alpha’s queen, is the female commander of the pack. Below them is Beta Alpha. The third in command lieutenant. A future pack leader or potential substitute when Alphas and Lunas are not immediately present, or if the Alpha retires from leading the pack.

Beta make up the supportive ranks of the Delta Pack. Any member of the Pack that isn’t an Alpha, Luna, or Beta Alpha, is a Beta, unless they haven’t fully mastered the power of shifting yet. Then, that makes you Gamma.

Gammas are young shifters. They haven’t learned to fully control going into rut or going into heat. They’re quick to shift, and easy to rage. Gammas are arguably most dangerous among howlers because they have this immense potential for carnage if they aren’t managed properly by the Delta Pack’s hierarchy.

My Delta Pack is the strongest, in our region. We’ve defended the town of Dumas from outside threats for nearly a hundred and fifty years. Many Delta Packs came before us, and we carry that legacy of the fang and claw into the modern era. My place in the pack specifically. I’m the Beta Alpha.

My name is Lars Kincaid…

The wind against my face is the best feeling in the world. I crank the throttle to urge my mechanical beast forward. The mechanical beast between my legs. It roars like a monster as I rip around the bend, high in the hills, overlooking the town below. From the mountain peak roundabouts.

My chopper is my calm and my peace. When the wolf gets antsy and wants to break something or eat someone, I go riding on my bike. It’s the calmest I ever feel. Takes the brutal edge off. Aint easy being a wolf. Takes discipline, patience, and hell of a lot of fucking self-control.

You gotta keep the wolf on a short leash…

I pull up in front of the clubhouse. Parking my bike. I step off. The gravel breaks apart under my black construction boot, as I stride across the front lot. I’m wearing my best pair of worn, blue denim jeans and a black tee that hugs my frame. Crisp black leather jacket over it. My religious uniform.

The moment I inhaled, I could smell her overwhelming aroma. She was in heat, and I could not only sense it but feel her longing and desire. It was like being stripped of all your native senses and having your strongest sexual urges set on fire.

I felt it, low in my groin. My cock getting hard, instantaneously. Ilaria, the gamma. In our pack. A new grunt, she wolf. A runaway from a brutal and abusive pack she had to fight her way out of and flee from to reach us.

My Alpha gave her safe haven. Offering her position in the Delta Pack. She proved herself as a fighter and he bound her to the pack by the bond of the wolfen claw. A ritual every pack member goes through. Requires you to allow yourself to be cut by the claw of the Alpha. Your blood, mixed with theirs.

Her eyes danced all over my face like she could see through me. I found myself stop in my tracks, for a split second. When I realized I was letting her get to me, I had to force myself to regain my composure and downplay my attraction. It wasn’t easy…

“How was your ride?” She asks, filing her nails on a bowie knife, seated on a barrel out front of the clubhouse.

I try to ignore her but stop briefly before pushing my way through the front entrance doors. Glancing over at her angelic face, “It was fine.”

“Just fine?” She challengers. The scent of her pheromones oozing off her nearly made me pick her up and carry her out back to bend her over something.

Had I acted on this impulse, I would be fine. My desire would be quenched. But if she went berserk as a result of mating with me prematurely. I could be condemning her to becoming a serker, and it would me that would have to end her suffering. I didn’t want that for her.

I rushed inside just to get away from her.

Inside the clubhouse, it was loud, and rowdy as always. You had howlers from our clan that aren’t Delta Pack just shooting the shit. Drinking at the bar, playing pool, sitting somewhere watching sports coverage. Reading or sleeping.

The clubhouse is like a command center for the Delta Pack. For the rest of the clan, it’s like a community center and safe haven. We have a playroom for the kids, and the women tend to congregate in the quieter areas like the library. But a lot of them stay out in the main part of the lodge too. We don’t really segregate ourselves between the men and women. It’s just a preference of how loud you like to play.

People look to me and wave or salute me in some way. I get a few bear hugs as I try to run as far from Ilaria’s intoxicating smell as I can get, but the urge to claim her is way too strong.

I decide to grab a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and take it down the hallway towards the War Room. I’m hoping Maverick is back there. I need him to talk me off the ledge. Before I… lock together, with that bitch.

My wolf brain confronts me in the back of my mind. Demanding I mate with her and damned the consequences of my actions. The wolf doesn’t think rationally. He acts on instinct. He’s an animal.

When I barge into the War Room. Maverick and Ramona look over towards the door, not startled. But immediately becoming alert.

Their very posture reflects the command of their authority over the rest of us. They’re like all of our parents. I regain a bit of myself, simply by seeing them standing in front of me. With those eyes of care, wisdom and expectation to follow in their footsteps. In their paw prints. As the next wolf leader… the Alpha.

“What’s wrong?” Ramona comes over to me, putting her hand to my shoulder. I feel a wave of nausea before I grow weak nearly collapsing to the floor. She grabs ahold of me. Revealing her strength. She keeps me upright. Guiding me into the closest chair at the long table.

“It’s that gamma. You need to get her in check. Before she gets one of these fuckin’ howlers to mate with her and we have a serious problem on our hands.” Maverick is stern, but kind. A natural born leader. A wolf leader.

“She only has a few days left. Not like it’s something we can prevent. I’m keeping her close as I can. I’m watching her.” Ramona rubs my back as I chug from the bottle to nurse the agony of my desires raging within. Like it’s a freaking baby bottle in my grip.

“Older I get, the more I hate rut season.” Maverick stands up and pours himself some whiskey in a glass. Then sits back down at the head of the long table. In the seat that I am soon to command, if I don’t lose my shit first.