Page 103 of The Ashpaw: Part One

“You… smell. Like her. It’s… I’m sorry, just…”

Darion exhaled deeply. “She’s going to be my mate. Of course I will smell like her. Just like I will smell like you when I am with Kyntha. You both will have to learn to deal with it.”

She nodded once, about to apologize further, but then he grew more incensed.

“And you think it isn’t a problem for me that you smell like another alpha right now?”

He took a sniff towards her and then scowled.

Her wolf did not like that.

“I’m too tired to bathe,” he said suddenly. “And it looks like you already did. So perhaps we should sleep apart if our scents offend each other so much.”

He walked past her so forcefully he almost knocked her over, and before she could say anything, the door slammed shut and the lock turned, his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Fern stood for a moment, too stunned to process fully what had just happened.

And then the full weight of it hit her at once.

Sniffing, she stumbled towards the woefully inadequate bed and lay over the covers, pulling up the neckline of Reinn’s tunic and letting his scent calm her down, but sleep did not come.

Her stomach growled, and she stared at the ceiling, wondering when she’d be let out again.

Chapter 24

Fern

When the key jiggled in the lock the next morning, Fern had barely moved from the bed, her eyes still focused out the window where the sky had lightened.

She didn’t think she’d fallen asleep, and yet she did not remember much after Darion had left the previous night.

When the door opened, her gaze drifted to it listlessly, and there was a strange, competing mix of disappointment and relief in her heart that it wasn’t him, but a Solvekh she’d seen maybe once or twice.

The woman carried a tray with a bowl of porridge and set it on a small table wordlessly, leaving as quickly as she had entered.

Her body was heavy, and after a few moments, she finally managed to sit up.

After a few more, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Then, with much greater effort, she stood, pausing when the rush of blood and hunger pangs made her lightheaded.

Finally she walked, slowly, falling into the chair and staring bleakly at her breakfast.

It was already cold.

She took a small bite, and then grimaced.

Unsweetened, as well.

She barely managed to swallow it, and then laughed to herself.

Even the Solvekh were allowed honey.

Fern endeavored to eat at least half of it, then quit after only a third was gone, and shuffled back to bed.

This time she did manage to fall asleep, for the next thing she knew someone was lightly shaking her shoulder. “Lady Fern?”

It was the same woman as before.