Page 94 of The Ashpaw: Part One

“I suppose she shall be the new Ashpaw, then, if that offers any comfort.”

But Fern shook her head. “It does not. I would wish for there to never be another Ashpaw again.”

“A pleasant wish, little she-wolf, and I’m only sorry I cannot grant it.”

At last, they stopped in front of a door, and he dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand.

One of them dipped his nose a little lower than needed towards her, and Darion immediately let go of her to grab him, slamming him against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

“J-just curious, Alpha,” the guard stuttered. “She smells like…”

“Like an omega. Like my omega. And you’d do well to let the others know she’s not to be touched, sniffed, or looked at by anyone other than me. Am I understood?”

“Understood. My apologies, Alpha.”

He let him go, and the wolfkin hurried down the hall, straightening his leather armor.

“No one can even look at me?”

He whipped around to face her, his breathing heavy, and then he shook whatever had taken hold of him.

“If you knew what thoughts they held when they looked upon you, you would understand.”

Fern tightened the cloak around her, and took a careful step forward, her wolf nudging her from the inside. “Why? Do you hold such thoughts when you look upon me, too?”

His eyes darkened. “Aye, against all my better judgments.”

Fern frowned, and he gestured towards the door with a jerk of his chin. “Inside, then, so I may disrobe you and hold a few more.”

Her wolf practically vibrated with excitement, but Fern’s own heart was filled more with trepidation. The moon was still with him, after all, as it had been with Harland the night before.

And yet Eidan and Reinn had not looked at her with the heat that burned in his gaze as it roamed down her body, bare beneath the cloak Norden had insisted she wear.

She was thankful for it now.

Fern pushed the door open, the wood so thick and heavy that it took some effort.

The room beyond was enormous, though strangely sparser than she imagined for someone of Darion’s station.

A fire crackled low in a black stone hearth large enough for a man to stand inside, the heat washing over her chilled skin immediately. Thick rugs had been thrown across the floor, and heavy charcoal curtains framed windows that overlooked the forests.

The furniture was made of dark wood, carved smooth and without embellishment or flourish. A broad bed sat against the far wall beneath the carved crest of Sabletail, its gray blankets neatly topped with pelts.

Fern lingered near the doorway, suddenly aware of how small she looked standing inside a space built for an alpha.

She took a step inside, and he followed, closing the door behind her.

“You asked about expectations.”

Her spine stiffened as he made his way in front of her, hands clasped behind his back as though he were addressing soldiers and not the woman he had taken to his room.

“You will be my Naravekh—do you know what that means?”

“I know well enough.”

He looked up in thought. “I am in courtship with Kyntha…”