Page 82 of The Ashpaw: Part One

He stalked closer and she stumbled a step back.

“It’s only the moon talking,” she replied in a soft, soothing voice. Fern dropped her broom and held out her open hands. “My wolf will come out when she’s ready—”

“I’ve been ready for two moons!” he shouted, and Fern instinctively made herself smaller, bowing her head in a way that exposed her neck.

And then, in fear… she whined.

The sound was like nothing she’d ever made before, so animalistic she thought her wolf had taken charge for just a moment.

But her wolf remained crouched low inside, ears flattened, and eyes wide as she observed the interaction.

He’s not for us, she whimpered. Not worthy.

Perhaps, but I’m not telling him that.

Especially since whatever she’d done had only spurred him on. He came closer, his wolf and the shift riding him hard. Something rippled briefly under his skin when he passed the window, the moon not quite out yet.

“Pups conceived as wolves are stronger, they say,” he growled. “My previous mate failed me thrice. I have a feeling you won’t disappoint me.”

Horror dawned on her so suddenly she had to cover her mouth to keep from making a sound.

His ex-mate… she must have been Rosen.

He’d resigned her to a fate as the Ashpaw, and here he was, about to take her losses out on Fern.

Harland stretched and twisted his neck, snarling to himself, and Fern took his quick distraction as a chance.

Stupid, but she couldn’t just stand there.

She bolted for the door, his dark laughter booming behind her.

“Aye, she-wolf! Run! I love a good chase.”

The heavy wooden doors rattled as she slammed into them, fumbling with the iron latch so violently her fingers slipped twice before it finally gave way and the cool evening air hit her face.

She bolted into the courtyard, while Harland’s taunts rang after her.

“You can do better than that!”

Her skirts tangled around her legs as she sprinted across the open stone, panic making everything feel wrong. Her breathing too loud and labored, her feet too slow, and the world too open.

Nowhere to hide.

Where was Eidan? The other wolfkin?

She realized too late she had run in the opposite direction of where they’d gathered.

The moon had not fully risen yet, but silver already bled across the horizon, staining the castle walls in pale light.

“Eidan?” she shouted hoarsely.

But there was no answer, only the pounding footsteps behind her.

She glanced back once to see how close Harland had gotten, terror nearly seizing her entirely.

For he was not even running. He walked after her at an easy pace, barefoot and broad-chested, his pupils blown wide enough to swallow nearly all the amber. Veins stood dark beneath his skin, muscles twitching erratically beneath flesh that no longer seemed to fit him properly.

He inhaled deeply through his nose.