Does she believe I want to be this strict on every little matter of pack life?
This approach is the only way I’ve learned to lead from my father before the injuries he sustained from the challenge with Clark Morgan took their toll on him. The only way I’m able to demand obedient loyalty and trust as the youngest alpha this pack has had.
Her anger stings my nose with the sharp bitterness wafting off her. Hurt, my wolf barks, rising to his feet, alert for any sign of danger causing his mate distress. Doesn’t he realize it’s me that’s pissing her off?
She’s so close, her body brushing my abdomen.
Mine. Claim.
I shove away from the tree with a grunt, raking my hands through my hair. “No,” I push out rigidly. “That’s not what I meant.”
She sets her jaw. “Why do you care so much about this now?”
It’s not because I think she’s weak, it’s for her protection to make sure no female is vulnerable and unguarded.
And because my wolf is restless at the idea of her out here alone. I don’t like it either.
I haven’t felt in control, not from the minute I found out she was meant to be my fated. If I don’t do something to regain my footing, it could derail my preparations for the summit.
Every night since the bonfire, I’ve gone to sleep in my own bed. And every morning, I wake up as my wolf sleeping outside Avery’s cottage. He’s as taken with her as I once was.
I dragged Liam down the mountain because we went for a run to blow off steam after the first day of tryouts. I didn’t mean to, but we ended up near Avery’s. My wolf took down a boar we both knew was for her. When we went to drop it off at her place, Liam eyed me without saying anything.
But she wasn’t home. I could smell her, sweet honey warmed by sunshine and fresh rain, but my wolf insisted it was stale, hours old.
On the way back down the road, I picked up Avery’s scent again and felt the bond stretching over the distance between us. The moment I realized how far she’d gotten from packlands, my heart clenched with the worry she was in trouble, like when my mother went missing.
Should I even be able to feel her through the bond? It’s broken. It makes no sense for it to act the way a bond does between True Mates that accept the will of the Fates.
I squeeze my nape with a sigh. “I forgot how stubborn you could be.”
“You mean before you believed I betrayed you?” At my sharp look, she shakes her head, rolling her lips between her teeth. “If you’re so sure I’m out to stab you in the back, then follow me.”
She gives me a fierce glare with her challenge, then abruptly spins on her heel and stomps off without waiting for me. I work my jaw, wondering again why I’m letting her get away with this instead of hauling her ass to warm the benches in the holding cells.
“Well? Are you coming or not?” she calls over her shoulder. “Come see for yourself that I’m not doing anything wrong.”
Grudgingly, to my wolf’s approval, I follow her. She pauses every so often to gather tree bark or scrape sap into a jar from her satchel.
“What’s that for?”
“Plenty of things. This bark can be distilled into an oil for ointments. It can be used for pain relief. To fight infection, depending on the species of tree. Bark is always handy to keep around.”
“We’re shifters. We rarely need that.”
She levels me with an unimpressed stare. “Rarely isn’t never, and not all shifters have strength on their side. Like those who are Wolfless. I learned all this to help.”
My brows knit, trying to see the forest as she sees it. It’s our shelter, a source of food. Yet the weeds she stops to lovingly stroke carry an entirely different meaning to her that isn’t obvious to me.
People always whisper she’s become a witch holed away on the northern ridge. I’ve written them off, never smelling spell craft on her, not like the electric, cool tingling scent of the wards woven into our border by witches long ago.
A twinge pulls in my heart because she’s different. Still curious and intelligent, but not quite the same person I called a friend. We used to explore together as kids. I’ve missed out on the exploring she’s done on her own.
I’m still thinking about her mouth, though. The fullness of her expressive lips. Kissing them.
“Wait.” She smacks her hand into my torso, stalling my thoughts. “There’s more over there. We missed it before. Take off your shirt.”
My brow quirks. “Why?”
“I didn’t bring a basket and I’m not wasting them.” She gives me a look that says this should be obvious.
I hold her gaze, shrugging it off and handing it over. She bunches it in her hands, throat convulsing with a swallow. Her eyes dip for a fraction of a second, flickering over my chest and biceps, following the trail of darker hair leading into my pants. The corner of my mouth lifts when her cheeks flush the loveliest shade of pink.
I forgot how pretty she is when she blushes.
A warm tingle spreads through my chest. It gives a gentle tug, encouraging me to get closer to Avery. Same as it has been for days, since the moment this fated connection awoke. My wolf is on board with the urge.
He’s fixated on her neck, wanting to glue his nose to it and inhale deeply until he’s had his fill, licking, then biting, claiming while we mount our mate.
I lick my lips, pointedly not staring at her ass when she bends to harvest more weeds. My wolf yanks at me, grumbling to convince me to watch her present for us. Idiot. Presenting is likely the last thing on her mind.
Those inquisitive murmurings to herself have him all riled up. He wants me to let him out. I swipe a hand over my mouth and squat to examine what she’s so interested in.
“What is that? Why do you need it?”
She huffs, showing it to me. “It’s a variety of primrose. A wildflower to most.” Her eyes lose the illuminating spark and she tears her gaze away. “It’s for Lena. She has a bad cold and this will help her fight it off.”
A wrinkle creases my forehead. “A cold? Shifters don’t get colds.”
The rest of her playfulness evaporates. “Yes we can. And despite what the healer probably claims, they can progress to illnesses that are deadly.”
I don’t like the weight in her tone, or the implication that there are those not properly taken care of in my pack.
Our healer mostly deals with monitoring pregnancies and setting broken bones after fights or accidents so they don’t heal wrong on their own. To my knowledge, no one’s ever been in true danger outside of contracting shifter diseases like moon sickness rotting the brain, a lone wolf going feral, or suffering the death of their mate.
“If Lena or anyone else is too sick for the healer, there are other options—”
“Hospitals? Human medicines don’t work, and without something stronger like a spell or potion from a witch— ”
I growl on instinct, the distrust of witches ingrained in me from birth. She sighs, shaking her head.
“Without the help of magic, or the natural remedies I’ve learned by experimenting, healing is down to the Fates.” She worries her lip. “No matter how much I try to do it all on my own. If the moon goddess made it possible, all I can do is fight an illness with every resource available.”
I frown when she holds up the makeshift sling of wildflowers. I should’ve paid closer attention once I became alpha.
“So.” Avery rises and starts off without me. “As you can see, Alpha, I’m not doing anything dastardly out here.”
Sneaking off isn’t any worse than what we got up to growing up together. She’s picking flowers to care for her sister, not plotting an uprising.