Deacon Prt 2

He’s in full blown aggression mode, his alpha scent getting so heady that my own wolf starts to snarl in response, and I have to deep breath and count to ten to keep her tamed. He’s riling the pack, and the murmur of restless snarls around me tell me they’re all poised and ready to fight, feeding from their leader’s need to attack. The psychic bond of a pack, so that when their alpha hits a battle, they all rev up and flock to him, ready to die for the good of the pack. It’s becoming unbearable, and invasive, as it shrouds like a dark smog around us and I can hardly breathe with the impending pressure.

I touch him on the shoulder as a way to break his intent focus on the incoming, as he paces past me for the tenth time and he pauses, spinning his head to me away from the road. It’s like I jolted him with a taser, such is his reaction, because he was caught up in his instincts and senses.

“Deacon’s a coward and no match for us