C4

BRIONY ASHBRIAR marched straight through the heavy oak doors of The Howling Stag Tavern, her skintight leather breeches stained with mud and her skinny 5.5-foot frame radiating pure, unadulterated hostility.

"I am only signing these pack law papers to secure the Ashbriar Wolfstead, Frostwarden," I snapped, slamming my wooden clipboard onto the polished counter before my human knuckles could give away my trembling fear.

The tavern was empty, but the thick, territorial scent of the Frostwarden pack clung to every piece of timber, sending a sharp wave of arousal straight to my wet core that I desperately tried to ignore.

"You always did know how to sweet-talk an alpha, hellcat," Garron murmured, his blind black face breaking into a slow, mocking grin as he rolled an unlit silver-leaf cigarette between his thick, scarred fingers. He leaned heavily on his carved white cane, his massive 5.8-foot muscular frame radiating an intense heat that made my breath hitch.

"Rule number one," I said, my white complexion flaring crimson as I tapped the legal parchment. "No funny business means your large, possessive hands stay entirely off my skin unless the Alpha Council Hall elders are actively watching us."

"And what happens when the blood moon rises and my wolf catches the scent of your heat, Briony?" Garron asked, his deep voice dropping into a low, predatory purr that vibrated right through the floorboards and straight into my thighs. "Are you going to tell the whole pack council that your husband isn't allowed to claim what belongs to him?"

"We are not a real true match, Garron," I hissed, my chest heaving as I forced myself to stare directly into his pale, unseeing eyes. "This is a tactical treaty to block Elric Ravenscar from breeding me for my ancestral land rights, nothing more."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, little bird," he chuckled, his large hand suddenly reaching out with terrifying accuracy to catch the edge of my clipboard, his fingers brushing against mine.

A sudden spike of raw mate-bond lightning jolted through my veins, making my hips throb with an angry, submissive ache that left me terrified.

"Just sign the damn line so I can get back to the Ravenfeather Roost," I muttered, ripping the quill from his fingers before his touch could make me lose my mind completely.

"The pack elders require a blood seal, not just ink," Garron stated softly, his smirk fading as he pulled a small silver blade from his dark leather vest. "Let me see your hand."

My heart pounded furiously against my ribs as I extended my arm, watching him press the sharp edge against my thumb until a single drop of crimson blood spilled onto the pack law scroll. He immediately duplicated the cut on his own thick palm, pressing our wounds together in a binding grip that made his inner wolf roar with dominant satisfaction.

"Now you belong to the Frostwarden territory," Garron growled, his face hovering mere inches from mine, the scent of tobacco and raw alpha musk completely overwhelming my senses. "If Elric so much as breathes near your neck, I will rip his throat out with my bare teeth."

"I can handle my own battles," I whispered, though my body felt entirely weak under his intense proximity.

"Not anymore," he countered, stepping back and hooking his white cane over his forearm. "Go hide out at the Ashbriar Homestead until tomorrow. I need to handle my family before the dawn council meets."

I didn't wait for him to change his mind, snatching my bag and fleeing through the tavern doors before the suffocating heat of his presence completely consumed my sanity.

Group telepathic link between Torvald, Halric, Caedmon, and Garron

11:14 a.m.

GARRON:

Need one of you to cover the northern border patrol shift tomorrow night.

TORVALD:

No.

CAEDMON:

On a Friday before the full moon? Hard pass.

HALRIC:

Try again, little brother.

GARRON:

Rude. What happened to pack loyalty? To brotherly love? To not being complete dicks to the blind alpha?

HALRIC:

What is so critical that you need the border guard off your back?

GARRON:

Glad you asked. I have been summoned for a highly classified tribal raid. There is a wild human female involved, a lot of forest law, and possibly a silver dagger. Can't say more. Pack security.

TORVALD:

You are not even trying to make this shit believable, Garron.

GARRON:

Fine. I will level with you. Elder Morag roped me into helping her. I have to escort her and the old guard to a blood-mead tasting square. Don't ask for details.

CAEDMON:

I believe that even less than the dagger story.

HALRIC:

Same.

TORVALD:

I still smell total bullshit.

CAEDMON:

Alright, fine. I agreed to be the blood-training target for Rowena Briarwick's warrior class at the Hall of Moon Scrolls. For the love of the goddess, keep Lady Eirlys occupied while I am there.

HALRIC:

You better fucking be joking right now.

GARRON:

I don't know what to tell you, man. Rowena has excellent taste in targets.

CAEDMON:

I will snap your white cane in half and enjoy it. And don't fucking call her Rowena.

GARRON:

Goddess, alright. I was kidding. Unclench your jaw, Caedmon.

HALRIC:

Still waiting for the real reason you are abandoning the pack house.

GARRON:

Fine. I promised a human friend I would commit a massive legal violation against the Alpha Council Hall. Can't say what or where, but if Marshal Calder asks, I was running drills with one of you the whole time.

CAEDMON:

He is being dodgy as hell. That means it involves that Ashbriar girl.

TORVALD:

You better not be blowing off pack business to get your cock wet, Garron.

GARRON:

I WISH it was for getting laid. My inner wolf has been starved for months. Like, literally. Hard as iron all the time because of that stupid restriction bet Mirelle Thornfield trapped me into. No human flings means zero action. My cock is not going to suddenly be showered with love tomorrow. Unfortunately.

HALRIC:

More than any of us wanted to know about your anatomy.

GARRON:

How about this? One of you does me a solid and I promise not to talk about my territorial urges for the rest of the season.

HALRIC:

Ever?

CAEDMON:

Be serious. You are making it so damn easy to say no.

GARRON:

Come on. It is one border shift. You will barely notice my squad is gone.

CAEDMON:

We always notice when you are gone, mostly because no one else flirts with the elder council grandmas to get extra meat rations.

GARRON:

You can't tell me Morag doesn't love the attention.

TORVALD:

She is mated, shithead.

GARRON:

Monogamy doesn't cancel out appreciation, elder brother. Come on. Just say yes. I will owe you all a massive favor. First selection of the winter hunt is on me.

HALRIC:

We own the hunting grounds, dipshit. We always take the prime kill for free. But fine. I will cover the northern line.

GARRON:

Knew I loved you bastards for a reason.

TORVALD:

If I find out you are skipping the guard duty just to sneak into the human homestead, I am putting you on solo Lady Eirlys bathroom renovation duty for a month.

CAEDMON:

And she has been talking about tearing down the stone tiles by herself.

GARRON:

Relax. I already told you, my beast is locked down tightly. Tomorrow is strictly about business.

The morning sun had barely cleared the trees at Frosthaven Moonreach when I arrived at the massive iron gates of the Alpha Council Hall, the cold mountain wind biting through my cloak.

Garron was already waiting on the stone steps, his large hand leaning heavily on his white cane while the other held a freshly lit silver-leaf cigarette between his lips.

"You are five minutes late, human," he murmured, his sharp ears tracking the sound of my boots instantly.

"I had to dodge Elric's scouts near the Hearthstone Bakehouse," I said, my voice tight as I stepped up beside him.

Before he could reply, the massive iron doors creaked open, and Elric Ravenscar himself strode out, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he held up a sealed crimson document.

"You are too late, Briony," Elric sneered, his eyes flashing with malicious wolf light. "The Alpha Council just granted me the immediate execution order for your eviction—and your signature on Garron's papers is completely void because his family just stripped him of his title."