The lone Alpha in the cabin

"I was hiking, right?" I groan, rubbing my head and glancing up at the sky, dirt still trickling down around me. My body aches from the long tumble as I slowly sit up. "Go get some fresh air, they said. We won’t leave your side, they said. It’s fine, we have GPS, they said." I mutter, pulling the broken device that’s supposed to tell me where I am from one of my many pockets. I’m not an outdoors person, but my friends decided that after being cooped up for so long, we should all go camping for four days. I didn’t want to go for that long—or at all. "Last time I let them talk me into anything," I grunted, brushing dirt off myself. At least the denim was a good choice. Nothing’s seriously hurt, but I’ll be aching tomorrow. I shield my eyes; it’s high noon, so I should be able to find my way back. I glance up from where I fell. Those jerks are probably cracking open a jack already and won’t even notice I’m gone. I’m that friend who’s there out of obligation, not genuine desire. Even if we’ve been friends since childhood. "There has to be another way up." Sofia had begged me to come, but of course her boyfriend, dickwad Chad, had to tag along. Not that it was any better being the fifth wheel with Jade and Molly suddenly becoming a couple. I glanced left and right before deciding to head toward the clearing ahead, hoping I could pull out my map and figure out where I was. Adjusting my bag, I noticed it felt lighter than before. Stopping to check, I found it hanging open, with a lot of my stuff missing. Frustration bubbled up, and for a moment I wanted to toss the rest, but I took a deep breath, closed it, and glanced back to see if anything had fallen out along the way. "Okay, goddess of the hunt, I get it—I went the wrong way," I huff. Like in the kids' story, I follow my goodies back to where I fell and keep walking. The sun is setting, and I’m still lost. The moon rises, and I don’t stop; instead, my ears perk up, hearing better now under its light. Usually, it’s pretty great, but when the moon is high, all my senses are sharper. "You’re not even trying to find your friends at this point," Itza murmurs in my head. Itza is my wolf; I’ve had her since I was sixteen, and she never shuts up. "Be quiet, I’m mad at you too," I grumble, taking my backpack off. She’s also a big reason I’m out here. "Not my fault you can’t find your mate." "Ugh, whatever. Do you want to run or not?" "Is that why we’re going deeper into the forest instead of finding the group?" "Duh, you’re the reason I said yes anyway. We really did stay in our apartment for way too long. You must be itching to stretch your legs." I looked around, certain I was alone, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. I stripped off everything and hid my backpack under a pile of debris. The sound of my bones cracking echoed around us, and I gasped from the tingles as I shifted from human to wolf. I became a large Mexican grey wolf—or more accurately, Itza, an extremely large Mexican grey wolf. She shook out her fur, and the scent of Belize Sage (Salvia miniata) filled the air. I sighed. Was that necessary? "How far will I be able to find our stuff?" "Also, how you attract attention," I mutter, but the damage is already done. She stretches and begins walking slowly through the vast forest. We glance up at the canopy when a faint scent catches Itza's nose. "Do you smell that?" she asks. I nod. "Yeah, I do." I take in a deep breath; it smells like Chocolate Cosmos (Cosmos atrosanguineus) mixed with Mexican Ebony (Havardia mexicana), carrying a warning to keep away. "I'm going to check it out." She bolts toward the strongest part of the scent. We run for three hours before reaching a log cabin with a wrap-around porch. The smell is strongest near a pile of chopped wood. I whisper, "Don't get too close." No one can hear me, but we’re sneaking around a man’s house deep in the Maya forest, hours from any signs of civilization. Itza circles from the tree line, rolling her eyes at my obvious warning. The scent shifts, and the man who had been sleeping jerks awake. We stay still as his overwhelmingly enticing scent fills the air. "He's a werewolf too," I mutter again, stating the obvious. She steps forward. "What the hell are you doing?" I hiss, but she just shakes and ignores me, her eyes locked on the large man at the back door. Our gazes meet over his crop. We stand on the hill at the edge of his property. His menacing stare shifts to curiosity. He has dirty blond hair, short and spiked from tossing in bed, and he’s wearing nothing but boxers. "What kind of man comes out in underwear?" "One ready to shift and fight," Itza mutters, her eyes scanning his broad shoulders. He’s clearly well-toned, in his mid-thirties, with tired eyes that say he’s not in the mood for company. I feel Itza about to turn away when his deep, braided voice cuts through the air, stopping us in our tracks. "Well, are you coming in or not? You’re already here." Itza glances back at him, tilting her head. Then the word echoes through us. "Mate."