Xena's POV
I was modifying Leonard - my pack's future Gamma's - motorcycle. My hands were steady, despite the fact that he was hovering over my shoulder like I was about to ruin his precious bike.
"Xena, are you done yet?" Leonard asked, impatience lacing his tone.
I glanced up at him, taking in his tall, handsome frame. Platinum blonde hair, striking blue eyes, chiseled jawline. He was attractive in an obvious way, but definitely not my type. Too arrogant, too aware of his own appeal.
"Almost," I replied, focusing back on my work. "Just let me finish this last detail."
My mind wandered as I worked. I was Xena Harris, daughter of Alpha Hank from the Nightcedar Pack, though most people called me Blade. My twin brother Logan was born just minutes before me, which meant he'd inherit the Alpha position when the time came. Not that I wanted it anyway.
The motorcycle shop had become my sanctuary over the last three years. I'd learned everything about customizing bikes, turning it from a hobby into a business that kept me financially independent. With our eighteenth birthday approaching, I knew changes were coming for both Logan and me.
"I'm really glad we could get this done," Leonard said, interrupting my thoughts. "I've got a date this weekend and I want it to look good."
I suppressed an eye roll. Leonard had a different girl every weekend. I couldn't be bothered to remember their names anymore.
"Don't worry," I replied, wiping my hands on a rag. "I'll make sure it look good. Can't have our pack's reputation taking a hit." I teased.
The silver wolf with cedar trees in the background that I'd painted on his bike gleamed under the shop lights. It was beautiful work, even if I said so myself.
"You know, they call you 'Blade' for a reason," Leonard said with a smirk. "Cold and cutting, just like a sword."
Before I could respond, the bell above the door jingled. Logan walked in, followed by Samuel - the future Beta and a couple other pack members.
"Did you skip last period again?" Logan asked, his voice carrying that authoritative edge he'd been developing.
I ignored him, focusing on finishing the detail work on Leonard's bike.
"Don't rush me," I told Leonard as he fidgeted beside me. "I know what I'm doing."
"You're not going to mess it up, are you?" Leonard asked nervously.
I shot him a glare. "If you don't shut up and let me concentrate, I might just decide to add some pink flowers to this design."
"X, I asked you a question," Logan repeated, his voice dropping an octave. "Answer me."
I could feel my heart rate picking up, but not because of my brother's commanding tone. Samuel had settled himself on the bench near Leonard, I had a slight interest in him, nothing too intense though I wasn't ready to acknowledge it openly.
"I heard you," I finally replied, not looking up. "I didn't want to go."
Logan's voice became dangerous. "Why not? What happened?"
I was about to ignore Logan's questioning again, knowing full well it would only fuel his anger. I was saved from answering by the arrival of my best friend Ama, her dirty blonde curls bouncing as she practically skipped into the shop.
"How's it going?" she asked cheerfully, looking at the motorcycle I was working on.
"Just finished Leonard's bike," I said, grateful for the interruption. "The princess here was worried I'd ruin his precious ride."
Ama grinned as she circled the motorcycle. "It looks amazing!"
"I'm not a princess," Leonard grumbled, crossing his arms.
"Relax," I said. "It was just a joke."
The bell above the door jingled again, and the air in the shop suddenly shifted. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as a stranger walked in.
"Hello," said a deep voice. "I heard this is the place for custom motorcycles?"
I was wiping oil from my hands when I looked up and nearly dropped my rag. Standing in the doorway was possibly the most attractive man I'd ever seen. Light blonde hair, cropped short. Green eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. He wore a leather jacket despite the summer heat, paired with tight jeans and motorcycle boots. Every cell in my body seemed to stand at attention.
I forced myself to appear unaffected, mentally scolding myself for reacting like a hormone-driven teenager. Which, technically, I was, but still. I had my pride.
I noticed Logan stand up straighter, the atmosphere in the shop growing tense.
"I was told to ask for someone named Xena," he continued, his gaze sweeping the shop before landing back on me. "Supposedly the best in this town."
"That would be me," I replied, lifting my chin slightly.
Surprise flickered across his face before he masked it. "You?"
"Problem with that?" I challenged, crossing my arms.
He shook his head, his lips curving into a smile that did uncomfortable things to my insides. "Not at all. Just not what I expected."
"What can I help you with?" I asked, keeping my voice professional.
"My Harley needs a complete makeover," he said. "Exhaust, suspension upgrade, the works. And I want a paint job that'll turn heads. Dark theme, black wolf with bones and ashes."
"What is your name?" Logan stepped forward, shoulders squared.
"I'm Ryder," the stranger said, extending his hand to my brother. "Son of Benedict, Alpha of the Boneash Pack."
Logan's jaw tightened as he shook the offered hand. "Logan Harris, son of Hank, Alpha of the Nightcedar Pack. This is my twin sister, Xena Harris." He nodded towards me. "Ama, future Beta Samuel, future Gamma Leonard"
Ryder's eyes returned to me with new interest. "Alpha's daughter. That explains a lot."
"I don't want to intrude by coming here. I am finishing my last year in school here before transferring." He explained.
"Where are you transferring to?" I asked, ignoring Logan's displeased expression at my willingness to engage with someone from another pack.
"Training," Ryder replied vaguely. "You have reference work?" he'd asked, his voice deep and gravelly.
I rolled my eyes and pointed to the display stand filled with leather-bound books of my designs. "Right there."
I watched Ryder's eyes scan my portfolio, his jaw clenched in concentration. Most men judged me on sight—a young woman who couldn't possibly know how to handle their precious bikes. I was used to it, but that didn't make it any less infuriating.
I've always been good at reading people—Logan says it's because I'm an Alpha Female. Whatever. But Ryder was... different. Mysterious. Dangerous, yet not dangerous at the same time.
"There." I announced to Leonard, putting the final touches on his bike's custom paint job, spraying the protective coating over the fresh artwork. "I'm done."
I stepped back, admiring my handiwork while peeling off my gloves. The green and silver tribal design curled around the gas tank, extending down the sides in sweeping patterns that looked like they were in motion even while stationary.
"You know the rules," I warned Leonard, narrowing my eyes. "Don't make me fix your mistakes. And this time, don't let those bitches ride your bike and scratch up my paint."
