Page 102 of The Ashpaw: Part One

It opened and Fern stepped cautiously inside, noticing first the warmth of it. No damp chill like the servants’ quarters, nor blistering heat of the kitchens. A small hearth with a fire was already lit, and windows were open to let in the summer breeze.

The room itself was larger than any space she’d ever been allowed to call her own, even back at home. A cedar chest sat near the wall beside a wash basin filled with water that looked like it had cooled while waiting for her.

Her eyes drifted to a silk robe folded neatly across a chair, then to a polished bone comb laid beside clean linens.

It was more luxury than she had known, and yet her attention lingered on the bed.

The frame itself was beautiful, carved from red wood with curling wolves worked subtly into the posts. The mattress looked nice enough, but there was no mound of blankets to disappear into. No overflowing pile of furs and cushions like the one in Reinn’s room. No softness spilling over the edges welcoming her to burrow and be cherished.

The bed was simply… practical.

Fern stared at it for a moment too long before shame crept in hot beneath her skin.

The Ashpaw in her whispered she ought to be grateful she’d been given a bed at all, while her wolf was deeply offended at the sight of it.

Worst nest ever, she huffed.

I think this is an improvement over the roof, Fern reminded her.

Barely.

Darion eyed her suspiciously. “What is wrong? Your scent’s turned bitter.”

Fern looked up and shook her head, trying to smile. “I think I’m just hungry, I—”

“Don’t lie to me, omega,” he warned, and Fern flinched, forgetting that if she couldn’t say what he wanted to hear, it was better to keep her mouth shut. “Tell me why this isn’t enough. I thought you would be appreciative—”

“I need a nest,” she blurted out, then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. She let the fear and shame roll through her before rushing into an apology. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m very grateful, thank—”

Darion tutted and cupped a hand behind her neck, a small smirk growing from his lips. “Aye, I’ve heard of this little omega quirk before.”

Quirk? her wolf barked. It is a necessity!

“I’m sorry to have forgotten. Tomorrow, I’ll send someone in, and you can tell them to procure anything you need.”

“Really?” she asked, her voice so high it nearly squeaked.

He laughed, and Fern’s whole body relaxed. She’d never heard him laugh like that before. At least, not with her. The sound was rich and deep, making her feel tingly. Almost moon drunk.

And that reminded her of what she really needed.

Touch.

She took a step towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest.

His scent was still imprinted on her memory from when he’d come to bind her and bring her here, and she tried to seek comfort from it.

But it was deeply laced with the scent of another.

Something fresh, something not him.

And she took a step back.

Darion frowned. “You need something else?”

“I’m afraid to say it.”

“Say it,” he said quickly, his tone clipped.