Mated To My Stepbrother
Bren straightened, trying to mask the raw pain with a semblance of discipline, but his knuckles were white where he gripped his spear.
"Bren," Ashton said, his voice cutting through the frosty silence. He stopped before the young warrior. The others shuffled nervously, their scents spiking with apprehension – pine needles crushed underfoot, damp earth. Fear of the Alpha, yes, but beneath it, the sour tang of shared grief and uncertainty.
"Alpha," Bren managed, his voice tight. He couldn’t quite meet Ashton’s eyes, staring instead at the wolf-head pommel of Ashton’s sword.
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