Page 156 of The Ashpaw: Part One

“The clan is fractured, son,” his father said, so close he could feel his father’s breath on his cheek. “And you have no one to blame but yourself.”

Darion blinked, wondering how the hell he could fix this. Physically, of course he would prefer to be knotted in his omega at the moment, but that would mean rewarding her. It would mean she knew now exactly how to get whatever she wanted.

“Tend her, breed her, and pray the wolfkin may forgive you.”

It infuriated him, but if this was what the clan needed, he would do it. They were more important, and he could find a way to punish the omega later.

“Aye, Father.”

He turned and left the Council Chambers at once, fuming and trying to think of a way to apologize to Kyntha. That despite his promise, despite what the omega had done to her and him, he would still tend to her.

I will do what is needed and no more, he told himself, ignoring broken nose after broken nose. Ignoring hard stares and harsh whispers.

There would be no comfort. No sweet words. No touching beyond…

He turned into her hallway and felt it.

Darion stumbled, holding out a hand and leaning against the wall for support as her scent penetrated not only his lungs but every pore of his skin.

Her misery, her hopelessness. The despondency.

It felt like wading through thick mud as he walked, each step harder. Each step threatening to falter and bring him to his knees where there would be no hope of rising again.

The guard stood steadfast outside of her door, nose broken as Eidan had reported.

His eyes glowed in the low light, his pupils blown, while his hand gripped on the pommel of his sword so tightly it looked like he could snap it off.

At the sound of his steps the guard whipped his head towards Darion and growled.

The guard’s wolf was right under his skin, taking over what he could to help the man survive.

“What are you doing here?”

The guard’s voice was so low, Darion would almost mistake him for an alpha.

“You have served the omega well, but I will tend to her heat. Stand aside.”

The guard braced himself, as though he meant to defend her from any intrusion, including her own alpha.

“She is finally about to receive relief, no thanks to you. Be gone before you make it worse.”

Now it was Darion who growled, baring his teeth. “Who attends her now?”

“The healer,” the guard spat. “He’s found a way to help. Leave her be.”

“Stand down!” Darion ordered.

The guard drew his sword. “I promised to defend Lady Fern against all threats, Alpha Darion. And today, that threat is you.”

A broken sob broke through the door, and Darion clutched his chest.

Solas’s Hells, her scent was twisted. When he’d been here yesterday, it was full of pheromones, meant to entice. Meant to encourage days on end of constant consummation until breeding was successful.

But this?

It felt like death.

“I will not say it again, stand down!”