Page 28 of The Ashpaw: Part One

Fern swallowed, wiping up the drop and taking a step backward, when Karn nudged his empty cup.

She rushed to his side next, his hand rising to touch her lower back as she poured. It was an anchor she needed as she breathed through the anxiety welling inside of her.

This was different from the attention and touches in the dining hall with the beta wolfkin. There was always an undercurrent of want from them, captive beasts snapping out and testing the length of their leads.

Here she felt almost cared for, affection that spoke of providing rather than desire.

Although strangely, her stomach did not twist into knots at the thought of it leaning that way, and from the way Karn’s hand patted her behind before dismissing her, she had a feeling they would not either.

Her wolf was ecstatic.

“By the next new moon,” Karn said, taking a sip of his now full drink. He gave Fern a wink as she had retreated to her spot on the wall, and she looked down, too afraid to respond. “And how about our own reserves, Darion? Or has Kyntha kept you too busy to leave your furs?”

The alphas chuckled, Norden patting Darion on the shoulder.

“Let’s just say I’m thankful she’s preparing for the next rites alone so I could make this meeting,” Darion said.

More laughs.

Fern’s gut churned, and she dared a peek at the table, disappointed he wasn’t looking at her.

But Eidan was. Their eyes met, and then his darted towards his cup. She moved to the other side of the table, his finger running up and down her arm as she filled it, goosebumps erupting on her skin.

She and her wolf were strangely in agreement about all the tactile attention she was receiving this evening. It was as though her need for touch was its own cup, empty for so long she had not realized it needed to be filled.

She was brimming with it now.

“I’ve been accumulating as many Solvekh as I can these past few months,” Darion said, gesturing along the river that separated their territories. “Strong men—well, for humans. Useful for the front line.”

The alphas all nodded in agreement.

There was more talk of strategy, of supplies, and other topics that didn’t quite interest her, so she mostly focused on the task at hand.

See an empty cup, fill it.

Before long, the meeting was over, and the alphas all rose to leave. Fern bowed from her place, some of them stopping to pat her on the head or whisper a quiet “welcome to the clan” in her ear.

Her whole body tingled, and she wondered if it would be possible to do this every night instead of serving the beta wolfkin in the dining hall. All she needed to do was watch over a handful of alphas, pour their drinks, and be quiet.

Gaze averted, she waited until the last alpha was gone so she could begin cleaning, but one set of boots remained planted firmly on the floor.

Her eyes rose to meet Darion’s, and she quickly averted them again.

“Is there some other way I can be of service this evening, Alpha?”

He grunted, arms crossed. “You did well.”

His praise, so simple and impersonal, still filled her more than all the other careful touches she’d received that evening with the alphas, and she felt as though she could melt into a puddle at his feet.

It was alarming, this power he had over her.

“Thank you, Alpha. I would be honored for the opportunity again.”

He was silent, and Fern began to sweat. Wasn’t he going to dismiss her?

“There’s something else I wish to tell you,” he finally said.

It was impossible to tell from his indifferent tone what that “something” else might be, and she tried to hide her panic as her mind spiraled with worsening scenarios.