Ainar is angry—no, scratch that—he’s fucking livid.
He can feel the gazes of the pack members lingering on him as he passed by them, probably wondering why the pack alpha’s son is waking around while radiating and smelling of so much rage, but he paid them no mind. The events of the past days, especially for those who had been there to witness, were already enough of an answer as to why the alpha is in his current state, others murmured against each other, asking for answers, shutting their mouths once they hear it. Other times, Ainar would have stopped to greet them, especially the older ones as they seemed fond of him, but not today. He had a definite destination in mind, and he can’t wait to finally get there.
Ainar would have preferred staying in his shack with Gavin. Already, he misses the omega’s warm body against his own, his small hands clutching onto his tunic, the warm puffs of air leaving his parted mouth as he slept, and the way he seems to unconsciously scoot closer to the
