C-7

I nod and take the heavy iron pot of river lobsters from Lucan Blackmoor, setting it down on the wooden bench outside the washhouse. "Thank you, Lucan. Please, sit for a moment before you hit the trail back to the Ironfang Guild."

This is the first time Lucan and Caelan have stood face-to-face in my yard, though both powerful males know exactly who the other is. They are near the same age, both bearing the brutal physical marks of high-ranking warriors, but while Lucan carries the grounded, earthly presence of a local pack enforcer, Caelan radiates the suffocating, lethal authority of the Thorncroft Alpha Dominion.

They exchange a brief, rock-hard handshake, their eyes locking in a silent, predatory clash of dominance before they take seats at the low timber table on the porch.

Caelan leans his massive, bare-chested frame back against the oak wall, his gray eyes flashing as he looks over at me. "Do we have any of that fermented mountain wine left in the cellar, Elowen?"

I give a slight nod, wiping my damp hands on my linen apron. "The crushed black-grape batch from last autumn?"

A faint, victorious smirk touches his harsh lips. "Bring a jar out. It is poor pack manners to let a visiting warrior sit with an empty glass."

Lucan sits up a little straighter, his jaw tightening as he catches the effortless way Caelan acts as the master of my den.

I head down to the small cellar beneath the kitchen, retrieving a sealed clay jug of the strong, dark wine I brewed after the last harvest. When I return to the porch, expecting tension, I find the two males engaged in a surprisingly calm, low-toned conversation about the territorial borders and timber trade routes between the Moonfang Province and the central capital.

I pour two wooden cups and set them down. Lucan takes a slow draft, his eyes shifting to me with a strange, contemplative look. "I have known you for four years in this refuge, Elowen, yet I never knew you could not stomach shell-beasts."

My eyes flick instantly to Caelan, who is swirling his dark wine with complete, unbothered composure.

I look back at Lucan, clearing my throat softly. "It is not a total restriction, Lucan. Briar adores river lobsters, so I cook them often. But my body changed after I carried her."

Ever since I gave birth to Briar as a bloodless human, my system reacts violently to certain sea meats. It triggers a painful, burning rash along my skin and makes my stomach twist. I avoid it entirely, a fact Caelan learned four years ago when he watched me suffer through a post-natal fever in the Royal Alpha Quarter.

Caelan lifts his cup toward Lucan, his deep voice carrying a smooth, subtle edge of possessiveness. "Thank you for looking after my female and the child while I was settling the northern border wars, Blackmoor."

I have never explicitly explained my past bond with Caelan to anyone in the Frostfang Refuge. Lucan suspected the towering High Alpha was Briar's true father from the moment he first arrived, but as a gentleman, he never forced the question.

The two males finish the jug of fermented wine in surprisingly easy succession. As the alcohol settles, their stiff posture relaxes, their shared background as frontline commanders giving them a common language of battles, pack laws, and territorial defense.

Caelan is a legendary figure across the seven territories. If his brutal military campaigns during the Rogue Wars established his terrifying reputation, his absolute dominance over the Thorncroft Alpha Dominion over the past four years has proven his terrifying political intellect. Under his absolute rule, his territory has swallowed neighboring lands, secured the richest gold mines in the Moon Treasury Quarter, and built an army that no rival pack dares challenge.

A male of his stature commands absolute obedience wherever he walks. Yet here he sits on my humble wooden porch, sipping homemade wine from a cracked timber cup.

Inside the cottage, the night grows late. Briar has already crawled into her small bed, while young Michael lies sound asleep across Lucan’s lap, his small wolf ears twitching in his sleep.

Noticing the sleeping child, the two males taper off their talk.

Lucan lifts Michael onto his broad shoulder, giving me a quiet, lingering look before stepping down into the foggy dark. "Goodnight, Elowen. Call the guild if you need more firewood."

Once the front gate clicks shut, Caelan immediately rises from the porch table. Without a word, he gathers the empty wine cups, carries the heavy wash basin inside, and wipes down the rough wooden counters with a damp cloth.

I lean against the doorframe, watching the terrifying High Alpha perform basic household chores. "You have become quite the domestic male, Caelan. It almost suits you."

He stops, tossing the cloth over the sink, his dark gray eyes gleaming with a dangerous, playful heat as he turns to me. "How should I return the compliment, my sweet human? Should I say you have grown soft and forgiving?"

I let out a soft laugh, turning away to hang the linen towels.

Before I can step toward my room, Caelan catches my wrist, his large, rough hand wrapping completely around my joint. He takes the towel from my grip and sets it aside, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my blood run hot.

"Check on the child," he rasps softly, his thumb tracing the quick, erratic pulse in my wrist. "Then come back out."

I pull my hand free, my heart hammering against my ribs as I duck into Briar's small room. She is fast asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling beneath her thick fur quilt.

When I step back into the main living room, Caelan has stretched his massive frame out on the long fur rug before the dying hearth fire. His eyes are closed, his deep, rhythmic breathing suggesting he has finally surrendered to the exhaustion of his long journey.

I retrieve a thick sheepskin blanket from the linen chest and kneel beside him, carefully draping it over his broad shoulders. As I tuck the edge around his neck, my knuckles accidentally brush the rough, warm skin of his collarbone.

His eyes snap open instantly, glowing like silver fire in the dim amber light of the embers.

I freeze, trapped beneath the weight of his unyielding gaze, my throat going completely dry.

"I saw you in my dreams every single night I spent in the capital, Elowen," Caelan whispers, his deep voice thick with raw, gravelly pain. "Every time I opened my eyes to an empty bed in the Alpha Quarter, my wolf tore at my chest until I thought I would go mad."

His words hit me like a physical blow, sending a sharp, intoxicating heat straight to my core. I flush deeply under his stare, unable to look away.

I force myself to sit back on my heels, smoothing my apron to hide my trembling fingers. "It is late, Caelan. You should sleep in the guest bed."

He reaches up, his large, calloused palm sliding over my hand, wrapping his hot fingers around mine and pressing my palm directly over the furious, heavy pounding of his heart.

"I have already submitted the paperwork to the Moonfang Academy Grounds," Caelan says softly, his eyes searching every inch of my face. "When I return to the Silvermoon Capital, I am taking you and Briar with me."

I give him a quiet, sad smile. "You do not need my permission to visit your daughter, Caelan. But I belong in these mountains."

His grip tightens, his dark gray eyes burning into mine. "Wherever you are, Elowen, that is where my territory begins."

A sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion hits me. I lean forward and gently place my free hand over his eyes, blocking out the fierce, possessive heat of his gaze. "We will discuss the future another time. Sleep."

He lets out a low rumble in his chest, pulling my wrist down until his hot lips press against the sensitive skin of my inner wrist, then sliding his hand up to cup the back of my neck. He pulls me down until my nose buries into the warm crook of his shoulder, his terrifying wolf scent of pine and ozone engulfing my senses completely.

"You still smell like home," he growls softly against my skin.

My pulse skyrockets, a dangerous, electric wetness blooming between my thighs at his proximity. Before the heat can consume my good sense, I pull back firmly, standing up with my cheeks burning.

"Go to sleep, Caelan," I whisper, turning on my heel and retreating to my bedchamber before I lose my mind entirely.

Throughout the remainder of his stay, we maintain a strict, careful boundary. He remains a gentleman, keeping his dominant wolf instincts tightly controlled, never crossing the threshold into my bedroom at night.

When the weekend arrives, the bright summer sun clears the heavy mountain fog, warming the valleys of the Moonfang Province.

Briar bounces around the kitchen, begging to visit the bustling market square in the center of town. Since the frontier province offers few entertainment grounds for children, Caelan harnesses his dark carriage horses and drives us into the heart of the city center.

He walks beside us through the stone streets, carrying Briar on his broad shoulders while he buys her every toy, polished rune stone, and carved wooden wolf figure she points her small finger at.

I frown as I watch him hand a bag of silver coins to a merchant for a massive, hand-carved rocking horse. "Caelan, stop this. You are going to spoil her rotten."

He pauses, holding the heavy wooden toy under his arm, his dark brows pulling together into a deep crease. "I missed four years of her life, Elowen. I missed her first steps, her first words, her first winter. Let me spoil my daughter."

The raw, quiet pain in his voice hits me right in the chest. My heart aches for the lost years, and I lower my gaze, accepting the gesture without further argument.

Briar tugs on my skirt, pointing toward a greasy food stall smelling of fried dough and honeyed meat. "Mommy, can I please have fried sweet-cakes? Just for today?"

I look at the greasy stall, then down at her eager face. It is her monthly treat, so I nod softly. "All right. But only one."