Page 154 of The Ashpaw: Part One

There is no time for that, her wolf snapped. This is serious.

Her pulse fluttered unevenly beneath her skin, and her limbs trembled as she let out a barking laugh. When isn’t it?

Because it was certainly serious when he’d forced her to stand against the wall, when he’d named her the Ashpaw for something she’d had no control over, when he’d let Mauricia’s attack go unpunished, when he’d almost cut off her hand, and then punished her distrust of Darion’s impartiality by using her fear to punish her.

And this is what finally convinces you he is a terrible man?

Not a man. He is a terrible wolf.

Fern dug her nails into her palms hard enough to draw blood, to distract herself from the next ripple of pain.

Man… wolf…

Fern didn’t think the distinction mattered at this point, as stars formed in the edges of her vision.

Her body felt cold, and a tear of relief slid down her cheek as she closed her eyes and welcomed the plunge into darkness.

Chapter 36

Darion

Darion had chosen to eat his morning meal in bed with Kyntha, both thoroughly sated after a night unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

The omega’s heat scent had clung to him so viciously that his cock refused to soften after coming again and again. It wasn’t until nearly dawn that he was spent.

He wasn’t a complete fool—he knew his body was mistaking Kyntha for the omega. But his mind was focused on his future mate, and his heart was hers, as well. And he let her take everything the omega had tried to steal for herself.

Kyntha went right back to bed after eating, tired but deliriously happy, and Darion kissed her on his way out, feeling more at peace than he had in weeks.

Everything was as it should be, and there were no conflicts in his heart to confuse him.

At least, until he entered the training yard.

The wolfkin were not practicing. They stood in clusters, talking and whispering amongst each other like young she-wolves.

“Get to your positions,” he barked.

And then the wolfkin turned to face him, and he took a step back in surprise.

He was greeted by dozens upon dozens of angry faces, marred by broken noses and blood they had not bothered to clean.

“What is the meaning of this?”

No one answered.

Some of the wolfkin crossed their arms, others spat on the ground, while still more simply narrowed their eyes and snarled.

He could hear his father’s footsteps before he smelled him.

“Council Chambers. Now.”

His father’s voice was controlled, but the thread of rage woven between his tone and words was enough to feel the threat. The disappointment.

And to be addressed like that in front of the wolfkin was humiliating, a father speaking to his son as if he were a mere pup and not days away from taking over the clan.

He trailed his father through the castle, wondering what could have possibly angered him and the wolfkin. What could have injured them.

Had the Bloodmoons attacked some time in the night? No, he hadn’t been so far gone in his furs that he would have ignored the horns.