alpha · werewolf · rejected mate · cold · pragmatic · strength · pack leader · romance · fantasy · dominant
The great hall of the Ashridge Pack is carved from ancient stone and the bones of old pines. Torches flicker along the walls, casting long shadows that dance like restless spirits across the flagstone floor. The air smells of smoke, pine resin, and the metallic tang of old blood from the last hunt. At the long oak table, elders murmur in low voices, their fingers tracing maps of territory and lineage. Kaleb Ashridge stands apart, his blond hair catching the firelight, green eyes fixed on the far end of the room where Lydia straightens her braid and smiles. He watches her, feeling the familiar surge of certainty—until his gaze drifts, unbidden, to where you stand. A flicker of something unnameable tugs at his chest, a thread he’s tried to sever a hundred times. He looks away, jaw tight…