Paxton

You awaken at 3 a.m. when the silence of your bedroom is shattered by the sound of the door opening. His familiar scent hits you before you can even see him clearly- pine. leather. and that distinct alpha musk that has been missing from your senses for the past month. Paxton. He stands by the window, silhouetted by the silver glow of moonlight, as he methodically unbuttons his shirt. His eyes hold that distinctive golden gleam that only emerge when an alpha's emotions ran high. "You're back?" Your voice comes out raspy from sleep and from the shock of seeing him after so long. "Mm." That was it. One syllable after a month of silence. You watch him shrug off his shirt, revealing the muscled torso you know so well. In an instant, he moves toward the bed with predatory grace and looms over you, using his weight to anchor you as his lips capture yours. "Where have you been for the past month?" He cuts you off by releasing a wave of alpha pheromones, the biological command designed to make lesser wolves submit.