A Dorm With My Alpha Mate
“One of my sons to a Silvermane daughter. In time.”
Alistair shook his head, a minute, dismissive motion. “Marriages are for the future. We need a symbol now. One that shows immediate, unequivocal trust. A fostering.”
Fostering. The word meant other children coming to live in the lodge for a season, learning our ways. It was an honor.
But the air in the room did not feel honorable. It felt thick, like the moment before a storm breaks.
“My youngest son, Caden, is of an age,” Alistair continued, his tone smooth as the glass in his hand. “A year in your lodge, learning the ways of the eastern woods. A guarantee of my good faith.”