C4

Evelyn Carter POV

"Clean your ears out, Simon," Alaric growls, his tone like ice breaking over a frozen lake.

Simon hits the stone floor hard, his knees making a sickening thud against the rock. The tips of his wolf ears turn red with blood-rush. "I... I shouldn't have thrown that venom at Mistress Evelyn."

Just because Alpha Alaric doesn't usually tear his own pack apart over small kitchen talk doesn't mean his teeth aren't sharp. When the lord of Moonshadow Valley gets pushed, people stop breathing.

"I didn't mean to insult her birthright, Alpha!" Simon barks, pressing his nose to the dirt. "I only thought the human girl would be exhausted trying to tend the fires of the Wolfhart Alpha Council on her first dawn here!"

Alaric smiles, his lips curling back just enough to show the tip of a white fang as his dead, sightless eyes drift toward Simon. "So you help my new mate by spitting on her labor and throwing her offering to the hounds?"

The entire dining hall goes dead silent. Edith stands frozen by the pantry. My own eyes stretch wide as I stare at the massive wolf in the black velvet coat. Is he actually ripping into his own pack guard to back me up?

Simon is shaking so hard his leather vest rustles. "No, Alpha... we didn't throw it out. Edith and I consumed the griddle cakes. We ate every bite."

Alaric's grin turns completely lethal. "Then it seems you are the ones running the Wolfhart Moon Manor, while I am just a guest."

Thud!

Edith drops to her knees right beside Simon. Simon crawls on his belly toward my boots. "Mistress Evelyn, show some mercy! I only thought you were fresh to the high country and might think we weren't treating you like a true lady! That is the only reason I told you to step away from the iron hearth!"

Simon is old enough to be my father Nathan’s elder brother. Watching a grown werewolf crawl on the stone floor like a beaten cur makes my throat tight. I press my lips together, my dark skin flushing as I force the word out of my chest.

"A-Alaric... Simon was just trying to protect my hands. If you are hungry, I can go back to the fire and fry some more..."

I turn toward the kitchen archway. The moment my short four-foot-two frame passes his heavy chair, Alaric's gloved hand snatches my wrist. He pulls hard.

My breath leaves me as I crash straight into his lap. My wide, plus-size hips sink into the rock-hard muscle of his thighs. The heavy scent of sharp winter mint and rich tobacco smoke floods my nose, completely masculine and suffocating. My dark face turns hot enough to burn.

His large palm slides around my thick waist, pressing through the thin lace of my sleepwear. "What did you call me, human?"

My blood turns to liquid fire between my thighs. "...Alaric. My alpha."

"What did you bake for your master?"

"Salted griddle bread," I whisper, my eyes locked on the single red cufflink on his wrist. "Sweet oats with mountain honey... and spiced tea."

He looks down at my burning cheeks, a dark chuckle vibrating in his chest before he leans down and presses his lips hard against my forehead. "You bake that for me tomorrow morning, little bird. Understand?"

I bite my lower lip, my heart hammering against his ribs. "The kitchen staff said—"

He lifts me by my waist, setting my bare feet back onto the cold floorboards. "Eat your fill quickly. You are going to be late for the gathering."

I shake my head to clear the fog, glancing at the iron clock on the wall. It is nearly eight in the morning! The elders at the Pinebrook Medical Center expect me by half past eight to collect my mother Margaret's herbs. I shove three large bites of the white bread into my mouth, scramble up the stone stairs to rip off my lace sleepwear, and toss on my heavy wool skirt and satchel.

When I run back down, Simon is gone from the hall. Edith is still kneeling in the exact same spot, her head bowed to the stone.

The blindfolded giant is sitting perfectly still, casually taking another sip of his milk. He doesn't need eyes to know my heavy steps are rushing past him.

"The pack carriage is waiting at the iron gates," Alaric rumbles into his glass. "Do not stay in the lower village after the sun crosses the ridge."

My face is still boiling. "Thank you."

"Alpha Alaric, I fed June every word you ordered me to," Edith speaks up, her voice dropping to a low hiss the moment the iron gates whine shut behind my departure. "She is already running toward the border to report the incident to the rogue factions."

"Get up off the floor," Alaric commands, leaning his massive six-foot-eight frame back into the furs of his seat. "There is one detail that puzzles my wolf. Both you and Simon were placed in this manor by the old man Magnus. Simon took the coin from my uncle's spies to watch my bed. Why didn't you sell me out?"

Edith's white face drains of all color. Thud. She drops right back onto her knees.

"Because you have a different master to please, don't you?" Alaric wipes his mouth with a linen cloth, his movements slow and terrifyingly graceful. "I will let you keep your skin for now. Since old Magnus wants eyes on my shadow, you tell him exactly what you saw today. Tell him I lost my mind with rage and banish Simon just to keep the human girl safe in my sheets."

Edith nods frantically against the stone. "It will be done exactly as you say, Alpha!"

"This is far enough, Bryce! Drop the brake right here!"

Holding my leather bag tight against my belly, I throw the carriage door open two full tracks away from the Pinebrook Medical Center and sprint down the dirt path. The morning sun hits my dark ponytail, making the sweat on my neck glisten as I run.

Once my short shape vanishes into the thick brush of the Silverpine Forest, Bryce pulls out a small black stone transmitter. "Alpha, the mistress forced the carriage to halt two ridges away from the center."

Alaric's deep voice comes through the stone. "What reason did the girl give?"

"She said the Wolfhart pack crest on the carriage is too heavy," Bryce grunts. "She doesn't want the common human folk in the village knowing she is bedding the lord of the high country."

"Let her walk," Alaric rumbles. "Keep your eyes on her scent."

I slip through the wooden doors of the medical center with only two minutes to spare, my chest heavy and gasping for breath.

Chloe Bennett looks up from her desk, her jaw dropping open. "You actually walked out of that monster's den alive?!"

I wipe the sweat from my eyes, dropping my heavy bag onto the bench. "I am on time for the collection, Chloe. That is all that matters."

I am still wearing my plain, dye-faded linen shirt and my rough village skirts. My hair is yanked back with a simple leather thong, and my dark skin is completely bare of any ceremonial paint. There isn't a single mark on my flesh to show I spent the night in an alpha's bed.

I pull out my mother Margaret’s medical ledger and my oil-stained notes. "The herbalist is bringing the root extract from the mountain ridge today, right?"

Chloe is staring at me like I am a ghost rising from the barrows. If my memory serves, the brutal alpha of Moonshadow Valley is already twenty-six winters old. A werewolf of that size who has gone through three dead mates without ever knotting a female should have torn a small human girl to pieces on his sheets.

Yet there is no thick red mating mark on my throat. My voice isn't hoarse from screaming. I am not limping or clutching my hips in agony. I am just standing here organizing dried leaves like it's a regular Tuesday.

Chloe's head is spinning. Is the rumor true? Is the great Alaric Wolfhart not only blind from his scars, but completely dead between his thighs? Even with a human female offering her throat?

Chloe's heart twists for me. She can't let her best friend spend her life warming the bed of a cold stone statue. Panting with urgency, she pulls out her ledger and scribbles a fast message to her cousin who studies male wolf virility in the northern sectors.

'Are there any roots or elixirs for a high-born male who cannot knot his mate?'

The response comes back instantly: 'What is the damage? Does he lose his heat too quickly? Or can his wolf not even rise to the scent of blood?'

Chloe glances over her shoulder at me. I am completely absorbed in checking the seals on Margaret's medicine jars. It doesn't matter. She is too stubborn to ever admit her husband is broken anyway.

Chloe types back: 'All of the above. Put the heavy oils in a jar. I am coming down to the lower labs to collect it after this shift.'

Evelyn, I am going to save your bedroom if it kills me.

The moment the midday bell rings, Chloe lets out a loud groan, clutching her stomach like she's been gutted by a silver blade. She begs me to walk her down to the healer's private cells in the back of the building. Seeing how pale she looks, I grab my bag and follow her, figuring I have nothing else to do until the carriage returns at dusk.

We enter the deeper halls of the andrology department. For some reason, Chloe starts babbling about family gossip and pack lines with the local medicine man. Feeling like an outsider among the pack talk, I take a seat on a wooden bench in the corridor, pulling out my hand-copied fiction papers to pass the time.

I am currently reading a translated scroll that the traders brought from the outer kingdoms. It is a story about a ruthless pack leader who spends years trying to hunt down a human rebel female, only for the two of them to end up bound by a blood contract.

"Evelyn?"

I am right at the paragraph where the alpha is about to rip the female's clothes off for their first moon-ritual. Reading something that filthy in a public hallway already has my dark skin turning hot. Hearing my name barked out loud makes my hand jump in a panic.

Clatter!

My loose papers and leather binder slide right off my lap, scattering across the stone floor. A large, clean hand reaches down, gathering the sheets before holding them out to me.

"Thank you..." I mutter, my face burning crimson as I raise my eyes.

My breath completely dies in my throat.

Ian Philips. The tall, stunning human healer who used to give me dried fruit back during our village school days—the only boy I ever cried over—is standing right over me in a white linen medic coat.

Clatter!

The binder slips from my fingers and hits the floor a second time.