Finn woke up in pain. Fire throbbed through his body, heavy around his neck, his belly. He couldn’t move, was too dizzy to try.

Then someone bit him in the leg, and it hurt. Finn yelped. Where was he? Where was Dante?

He struggled with the silence in his mind, fear slipping through his veins. Where was his alpha? Why couldn’t he hear his mate?

Took him a while to remember he’d sent his alpha away. That they weren’t bonded anymore. Then he realized there were wolves around him, more wolves than he could count. Some were nosing at him, biting experimentally on his back, his legs. Someone nudged at his belly.

He remembered the two men at the cabin, the knee against his swollen belly, hands around his neck.

Finn panicked, his throat closing. Not my pups.

He struggled to his feet. Yelped when someone tried to mount him. A cold shudder slid through his veins. Finn took a few paces forward, his head spinning. Couldn’t walk straight.

Someone bit at his belly. He snarled, turned to bite back. Then his head spun, and he fell hard on the ground, the breath knocking out of his lungs. Need to stand. Can’t stand.

Finn whined. Then he gritted his teeth, shaking his head. Too many wolves around him. Someone tried to mount him again. He snarled and bit at the wolf, his fur standing on end when another wolf approached, nosing at his belly.

There were too many of them. He couldn’t fight them off.

Further away, someone snarled. It sounded familiar. Dante.

Finn’s heart leaped. But ten wolves surrounded his mate, biting at him, tearing into his flesh. Dante was bleeding, his skin broken, blood matting his gray fur. Finn struggled to his feet, his bad leg buckling beneath him. Needed to get to his alpha. Needed to protect Dante’s back.

Finn stumbled, sprawling across the ground. Needed to stop being so dizzy. A wolf prowled forward, pushing its snout against Finn’s belly, all sharp teeth.

Finn’s stomach twisted. My pups!

Dante snarled. Then he leaped, crashing into the wolf.

They tumbled against the ground, Dante ripping the wolf’s throat open. More wolves descended on them, biting, snapping, Dante’s blood smearing on his attackers’ teeth. Finn tried to help. Winced when someone bit into his tail, his bad leg.

There were so many wolves. Finn couldn’t breathe. He felt powerless, weak, even as he bit at the wolves attacking Dante, his body heavy with pups.

How were they getting out of this? Would they make it out alive?

Then the wolf pinned Dante down, bit into his throat. Finn’s world turned white. His ears rang. Dante!

Dante struggled. His paws sent dirt flying as he tried to shove the wolf off. Except the wolf bit harder into Dante’s throat, trying to get a good grip.

Finn couldn’t breathe. He staggered forward, sinking his teeth into Dante’s attacker.

Couldn’t let Dante die. Couldn’t lose his alpha.

The wolf snarled, snapping at Finn, pushing him over. Finn lost his balance. Panicked as he thumped against the ground, wheezing. His heart squeezed. His belly hurt. Needed to help his alpha.

Further away, wolves howled. The black wolves snarled. Then gray wolves pushed into their midst, and Finn barely recognized Rhett and Gabe, Kendrick and Arnold.

The pack wolves came to stand around him, protective. Dante, Finn cried. Help Dante!

Gabe leaped at Dante’s attacker. He tore at the wolf, ripped its throat open. Then he shoved Dante onto his feet, and turned on the next black wolf, snarling.

Pack is here, someone said in Finn’s mind. Finn is safe.

Finn only half-heard it. He turned to watch Dante, his heart leaping as Dante leaped at the next wolf, tearing into it with Gabe.

Other gray wolves joined in. The pack isolated the black wolves, took them down one by one.

Finn limped forward to help his mate. Dante growled, looking past Finn at the black wolves, as though he didn’t recognize Finn.

Finn realized that Dante’s wolf had taken over.

Heart sinking, he followed behind Dante, biting into the wolves Dante attacked, ripping into them with his teeth and claws. Dante took down one wolf, then another.

Then he pressed his bloody snout against Finn’s throat, and sniffed at him.

Mate, Finn said. Do you remember me?

But Dante didn’t hear him. He snuffled, baring his teeth.

Finn glanced around them. Black wolves lay on the ground, bleeding out, the pack snarling as they tore into the attackers. There were a handful of assailants left; some had fled into the forest, and the pack had control over the remaining ones.

They were safe now.

So Finn pulled on his human form, shifting back. His bones ached as they stretched; his fur receded into his skin. Then he was human again. He sat before Dante, cradling Dante’s furred head in his hands.

“Dante,” Finn whispered. Didn’t realize his hands were trembling. “I’m fine. And so are you.”

Dante looked at him, didn’t move.

Finn pressed his forehead to Dante’s, closing his eyes. Felt as Dante shivered against him. “Come back. I need you here.”

I can’t lose you again, he thought, his heart squeezing tight.

He’d seen wolves bearing down on his alpha, seen Dante’s throat vulnerable in another wolf’s jaws. Dante could’ve been so easily snatched from him, and Finn realized he’d been taking his alpha for granted. Dante’s very life could end, and Finn would’ve lost the person he loved most in the world.

Was this what Dante felt like, back when he’d thought Finn was dead? How could Finn continue to push Dante away, not knowing what happened to his alpha?

Finn’s age, his scars—these were all so small, compared to losing his alpha forever.

Dante set a paw on Finn’s belly, licking Finn’s face. Then he closed his eyes.

Somehow, when Finn looked again, he was in that forest, the one by the lake with the full moon hanging low in the sky, and the nest of three pups at the shore.

Dante sat by the nest, his tail flicking behind him. Slowly, Finn approached. Sat himself next to Dante, running his fingers through Dante’s fur.

“Will you come back?” Finn asked, his voice quiet over the ripples of the lake. Didn’t know if Dante could hear him.

Dante turned, and Finn raised his hand, letting Dante sniff at his fingers.

Dante pressed his nose against Finn’s palm. Then he nuzzled down Finn’s forearm and up his shoulder, and he pushed his snout against Finn’s throat, licking over Finn’s pulse.

He could have very easily sunken his teeth into Finn’s throat, ended him there. Instead, Dante pressed his snout flat against Finn’s neck, and leaned into him. As though he trusted Finn.

Finn swallowed hard, stroking down Dante’s back. Then he wrapped his arms around Dante and hugged him, and Dante’s howl reverberated through both their bodies.

When he opened his eyes, they were both still sitting by the lake. Dante was a man again, his eyes warm.

Finn breathed in deep, his heart pounding. Closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes this time, he was back in the brightly-lit forest. Dante sat before him as a wolf, his eyes sharper now, filled with worry.

“Dante?” Finn breathed. “Are you... are you back?”

Dante nodded. Then he shifted, his tail pulling into his body, his fur disappearing into his skin. When the silver glow faded, Dante was in his human form, his body covered in blood. He leaned forward on his knees, his eyes raking over Finn’s face.

“Finn?” he rasped, touching his fingertips carefully to Finn’s cheek. “Are you—You’re okay?”

Seeing his alpha before him, whole and alive, Finn’s heart stumbled. “I’m sorry,” Finn said, his face crumpling. “I shouldn’t have sent you away.”

“Gods, Finn.” Dante leaned in, scooped Finn into his arms. Jagged lacerations streaked down his arms, and blood soaked through his shirt. His face was bloody, too, bite marks layered on top of his silvery scars.

Dante slid his fingers into Finn’s hair, cradled him close. Dragged his lips against Finn’s temple, wrapping himself around Finn, as though he’d found something precious he couldn’t lose.

“I didn’t—I thought... I thought they were gonna kill you,” Dante said, his breath ruffling through Finn’s hair. “I just... Gods. I saw you on the ground and I thought... I wasn’t enough to save you.”

Dante’s voice cracked. He broke into a low whine, then he buried his face in Finn’s neck, shaking.

“I thought I was gonna lose you again,” Dante said thickly. Then Finn felt dampness through his shirt, and he realized they were Dante’s tears. “I can’t—can’t lose you. Fuck my past. I can’t—can’t let you go again. I’ll do better with my wolf. I’ll do better with everything. I’m sorry.”

He slid his palm carefully down Finn’s side, touching Finn’s belly. Kissed Finn softly on the throat.

Finn blinked hard, his own vision blurring at the edges. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have sent you away.”

Dante trembled, and Finn slid his fingers through Dante’s hair, leaning into his alpha. Then he felt Dante’s heart thump against his palm, felt the moment their heartbeats synced, beating together as one.

“How are the—the pups?” Dante murmured, kissing Finn’s shoulder. He touched Finn gingerly, stroking his fingertips down Finn’s arms, his back, as though he were afraid that, if he were any more forceful, Finn would break against him.

“The pups are fine,” Finn said. He’d felt them, seen them in the nest. He’d been afraid at first, falling against the ground like he had. “They—the wolves were going to hurt them.”

Dante growled. “Killed some of them. Tell me if their bodies aren’t here—I’ll take them down, I’ll—”

“Shh,” Finn whispered. Then he leaned away from Dante to peer into his eyes.

Dante stared back at him, his cheeks tear-streaked, his eyes so vulnerable that Finn wanted to hide him away, so no one would learn how to hurt his alpha.

“You’re really okay?” Dante asked, his voice tight. He cupped Finn’s cheeks with his hands, brushed his callused thumb over Finn’s lower lip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should’ve been better. I—”

Finn pressed a finger to his mouth. “Shh. I love you,” he whispered.

Dante’s throat worked. His lip trembled. “Oh.”

Then his gaze fell to the crescent-moon scabs on the side of Finn’s neck, and Finn’s face burned. “That was a mistake,” Finn mumbled. “I shouldn’t—shouldn’t have severed the bond. I’m sorry.”

Dante’s eyes flew to meet his. “Does that mean you—you want to be mine?”

Finn met his eyes. Through the lonely nights in his cabin, and through the silence of his pups kicking in his belly, Finn had come to realize that he couldn’t do without his alpha. Even if he were older, even if he would lose his fertility soon... Nothing could replace Dante as his mate, Dante’s steadfastness and his love.

So maybe this meant Finn was selfish. But his life was no longer complete without Dante—maybe it had never been until they’d met. Dante brought cheer and mischief to Finn’s life, Dante had taught Finn he was worth loving.

Finn bowed his head. “Yours,” he whispered.

Dante growled low in his throat, sliding his fingers through Finn’s hair. Then he tipped Finn’s head back, leaned over his belly, and claimed Finn’s lips with a hot, hungry kiss.

“Mine,” Dante murmured against Finn’s mouth, sliding into him, tangling their tongues. “My omega. My mate.”

Something in Finn’s chest unfurled, light and sweet and hopeful. He leaned into Dante, shivering when Dante slid his hand down Finn’s chest, coming to rest on the swell of Finn’s belly.

“Our pups,” Dante breathed. “I love you.”

Finn choked, his heart full. Couldn’t believe that Dante was accepting him again. That Dante would look past Finn’s mistakes, take him back.

Dante pulled him closer, kissed him thoroughly, and it felt as though he’d never left.

When they ended the kiss, Finn tipped his head to the side, exposing the part of his neck that was unblemished, unmarked. Dante’s breath hitched; his eyes grew wide. “You want...”

“Please,” Finn whispered.

With a low, choked growl, Dante leaned in, kissed Finn softly on the crook of his shoulder. Then his teeth grazed Finn’s neck, and he bit down hard, breaking skin. Finn shuddered, pain jolting through his body.

Dante licked at the wound. Sucked down the droplets of blood that oozed from his bite.

Something whispered between them, flickering through Finn’s veins, his mind. Then there was a familiar presence in his head again, and Dante kissed Finn’s throat, pulling back.

Finn? Dante whispered in his head.

Finn blinked hard, his eyes filling with tears. I missed you, he thought.

Dante gave a tentative smile, brushing Finn’s tears off with his thumbs. Then he cupped Finn’s cheeks and kissed him again, and for a long while, it felt as though there was nothing in the world, but Dante.

And that felt right.

Finn heard the murmur of the pack wolves first, the whispers as they gathered around in a loose circle. Dante stiffened, sliding his arms protectively around Finn.

When they broke apart, Finn glimpsed Arnold standing to the side, his lips a thin line. Finn quailed.

Maybe they would both be banished now. Maybe Finn would have to move all his things out of the canyon, find somewhere that would accept him and Dante. Maybe the threat of the black wolves was fully gone, and it would be safe for them to live elsewhere.

He’d somehow clambered onto Dante’s lap during the time they were making up. Finn’s face burned as he slid off his alpha, kneeling beside him on the grass. Bowed his head before Arnold, expecting the pack leader to exile them both.

Dante narrowed his eyes, but he held his tongue, squeezing Finn’s hand. I’m here, Dante said. I’ll follow you wherever you go. Not leaving you again.

I know, Finn answered. I love you.

Dante’s lips curved into a tiny smile; Finn felt the hope fluttering in his alpha’s chest.

“Finn,” Arnold said severely. “Before we begin—do you need urgent medical care?”

Finn looked down at the scrapes and cuts on his body, his heart beating uneasily. Couldn’t focus on himself right now. He needed to know what would happen to him and Dante. “No, the healing can wait.”

“Very well,” Arnold said, turning to look at Dante. “Dante of the Weregrits. The last time we met, I banished you from Topanga Canyon.”

The pack murmured. Dante bowed his head. “This is not the canyon, sir.”

Arnold’s lips twitched—maybe he was smiling, but Finn didn’t dare hope. “You’re right,” Arnold said. “This isn’t the canyon.”

Then he paused, and Finn wondered if they might be pardoned.

“But you passed through the canyon, and you trespassed on the properties there.”

Dante nodded; Finn felt his alpha’s heart sink. “I did.”

“More than that, you have brought your pursuers to our land, and they have caused harm to one of our own,” Arnold said. “On that account, I should demand that you locate yourself at least ten miles from my pack’s domicile. Finn, too.”

The pack murmured around them. Finn sighed, his shoulders sagging. Here goes.

“But,” Arnold said. “You did your utmost to save Finn, Dante. The pack and I have witnessed the lengths you would go to, to keep your omega safe. We have seen that you mean no harm to our pack.”

“But he attacked Humphrey,” one of the wolves said.

“I have spoken to the witnesses,” Arnold answered. “Humphrey instigated the fight. Dante should not be the one held solely at fault.”

A flutter started up in Finn’s chest. He exchanged a look with Dante, saw the flicker of disbelief in Dante’s eyes.

“Finn is one of our own. Finn has built our drums, and he has always cared for our pack. Finn has taught our pups his craft, and he has been honest and kind.

“On Finn’s account, I will ask again,” Arnold said, “for the wolves of our pack to cast a vote. Those who are for Dante staying in the canyon, raise your hands.”

Finn held his breath, watching as a number of hands rose into the air. Gabe. Kendrick. Rhett. Then there were Daisy and Lucy, Aunt May and Ruth. Finn’s mom was there, but her hand was down.

Then Old Bill hobbled up, raising his hand, too. “Me, me!” he said. “Doncha forget Old Bill, Arnold, boy.”

Arnold cracked a smile, scanning over the gathered wolves. There was the vegetable-seller Finn always bought tomatoes from, and the florist he had a booth next to. There were two young wolves from Finn’s Redwoods class, and the mechanic down the road, who sometimes visited Finn’s workshop to borrow a tool.

“Thirty out of forty-five votes,” Arnold said after a while. “I will ask the remaining seven for their votes, but we have a majority for Dante staying.” Then he looked at Dante and Finn. “I hereby grant you permission to remain in the canyon, Dante of the Weregrits.”

Some of the pack clapped. Finn’s heart soared.

Dante bowed his head. Then he wet his lips, his nervousness filtering through his connection with Finn. “I have a request.”

Arnold raised his eyebrow. “Speak.”

“I know it seems rude,” Dante said, his voice ringing over the gathered wolves. “For an outsider like me to ask. But I wanted to know if... if I can join your pack. I have no allegiance to the Weregrits. I want to build a home with Finn. I want our pups to have a pack to belong to.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Arnold glanced around at the gathered wolves. Some wolves seemed surprised; others frowned.

“We shall decide this in another week,” Arnold said. “After you’ve had some time to settle in.”

Dante bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Finn said, squeezing Dante’s hand. He hadn’t thought that Dante would want to join the pack. But if they did, if they belonged, and if their pups had a home to return to... Topanga could remain their home. “We’re grateful for your leniency.”

The pack murmured. A couple of wolves came up, touching Finn’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Lucy said, cracking a smile. “Welcome to the canyon, Dante.”

Dante relaxed against Finn, looking at the wolves. He still hadn’t gotten up from his kneel. But he was here, he was with Finn, and their pups were well. He was Finn’s alpha again.

Despite Finn’s bruises, all of this felt good.

“Thanks,” Dante said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Lucy grinned. “A little late for that, but I’ll take it.”

She clapped him on the shoulder, backing away so the other wolves could welcome Dante to the canyon.

Then there came a familiar barking, and the rumble of wagon wheels bouncing off tree roots. Through a gap in the wolves, Finn glimpsed Crumpet scampering across the ground, followed by all five of his carts and wagons. Finn’s heart lifted.

“Looks like they were worried about you,” Dante said, a smile tugging on his lips.

Finn beamed. Crumpet leaped into his arms, and the carts pushed through the wolves, surrounding them, nudging uncomfortably into Finn’s back. Finn didn’t mind—they were all family, too.

Dante slid his arm around Finn’s back, kissing his ear.

Crumpet turned, licking Dante’s arm. Finn stared. So did Dante.

“I thought you hated me,” Dante said, looking incredulously at the dog. Crumpet barked. Then he smiled, and licked Dante again.

“He knows you were worried,” Finn said, leaning into his alpha. “I think that helped change his mind.”

Dante raised his eyebrows, a delighted smile spreading through his face. He ruffled Crumpet’s fur, leaning in to drop a kiss on the terrier’s head. “Glad to have you, too.”

Dante slipped his arm around Crumpet, then leaned in, kissing Finn thoroughly on the lips.

Surrounded by his family, Finn melted.

In a week, the pack would vote again, and maybe Dante would have a permanent place in the pack. For now, Finn wanted to burrow into Dante’s arms, breathe his alpha in. Patch up Dante’s wounds and bring him back home, re-learn every inch of Dante’s body.

They had lost some time together. Finn wanted to claim his mate as his own, take Dante for himself again.

They weren’t the best match in the world—Finn was older, and Dante had killed. But as Dante pulled Finn against himself, burying his face in Finn’s neck, Finn knew he wouldn’t give up his alpha for anything in the world.