C3

Elira Ashwyn catches the faint glint of silver runes on the heavy steel cuff around Kaedrin Thornvale's wrist. The massive warrior leans down, his scent of bitter cedar and blood hitting her nostrils, and speaks in a low growl.

"This is just a stolen trophy from a rival rogue I slaughtered on the border," Kaedrin whispers, his hot breath brushing against the shell of her ear. "I wear it to look dangerous, but I didn't think a little female like you would spot it so quickly."

He unclasps the rune-cuff and shoves it into his leather belt pocket.

"It looked authentic," Elira mutters, stepping back as her ears burn with sudden heat.

Having this broad-shouldered warrior towering over her four-foot-five frame makes her heart thud against her ribs. She shakes her head to clear her mind. It makes sense that an outcast bloodline rogue would carry stolen gear from northern battles.

"The ceremony is over," Cerys Ashwyn sneers, strutting forward with her hands wrapped around Torric Blackthorn's thick arm. "Since you actually claimed this stray, let me formally introduce my mate. This is Torric Blackthorn, future Alpha heir of the Blackthorn pack. If your rogue needs work, Torric can offer him a spot cleaning out the war-hound kennels."

Torric keeps his head down, refusing to meet Elira's dark eyes as his jaw clenches in lingering regret.

"I appreciate your generous offer, sister," Elira replies, her voice dripping with venom. "Though I doubt Torric has time to manage kennels when he's busy switching females every full moon."

Cerys’s face turns pale with rage, her claws digging into Torric’s arm. "You insolent stray! He chose my high-blood womb over your worthless body!"

"I like my freedom outside the pack walls," Kaedrin cuts in, his voice calm and dismissive as he places a large hand on the small of Elira's back. "I have no desire to serve a weak Alpha."

Before Cerys can scream at them, Kaedrin guides Elira out of the pack sanctuary and down the icy mountain trail toward the outer territory borders.

They reach a small, weathered stone cabin tucked against the edge of the dark forest. It is cold, bare, and holds only the essential survival gear of a border scout.

"This is my lair," Kaedrin says, tossing his heavy fur cloak onto a wooden bench. "It's small, but it keeps the winter wind out."

"It's clean," Elira says, her voice steady as she looks around the sparse room. "It's enough for us."

She watches as Kaedrin unbuckles his leather chest armor. The thick muscles of his shoulders bulge under his dark tunic, scars crisscrossing his brown skin from years of feral combat.

Kaedrin turns, catching her staring. He takes three long strides across the stone floor, trapping her tiny body between his massive frame and the wooden doorframe.

"You've been trembling since we left the altar," Kaedrin growls softly, his grey eyes darkening as he stares down at her lush, full lips. "Are you afraid of sharing a bed with a rogue?"

"I don't know you," Elira says, her palms pressing against his hard chest to keep a fraction of space between them. "This mating was forced on both of us for pack debts."

Kaedrin lets out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrates through her fingertips. "Don't worry, little stray. I'm not going to force my mark onto your neck. We can keep this union strictly business."

"What kind of business?" Elira asks, her breath catching as his scent suffocates her senses.

"You need protection and the silver for your nurse's healing," Kaedrin says, his eyes dropping to her chest before rising back to her face. "I need an Ashwyn female on paper to satisfy the Frostclaw elders so they leave me alone. We live our own lives. I hunt on the borders; you do whatever you want in the territory."

He leans closer, his broad hand coming up to gently cup her jaw, his thumb brushing over her dark, velvet skin.

"Though if your wolf ever gets lonely during the full moon," Kaedrin purrs, his voice dropping an octave into pure, possessive dirty talk, "I'd be more than happy to show you what a real Alpha knot feels like."

Elira's core twitches with a sharp, involuntary pulse of heat, her wetness immediately betraying her instincts. She grits her teeth against the surge of arousal.

"I don't need your knot," Elira snaps, her voice tight. "Just stick to the agreement."

Kaedrin's playful smirk fades, his expression turning deadly serious as his gaze drops to her flat stomach.

"One strict rule, Elira," he warns, his voice cold as steel. "We may be mates in name only, but if I ever find out you let another male lay his hands on you or carry his pup, I will slaughter him where he stands."

"I honor my blood vows," Elira answers firmly. "I am not like Cerys."

Kaedrin tilts his head, his sharp eyes searching her stoic face. "You're not Cerys Ashwyn, are you?"