“Watch your tongue,” Lyra warns. “She bears your Alpha’s mark.”
“A mark wasted on skin that can’t shift,” he retorts. There’s calculation in his gaze that I don’t like at all. “The Shadowmist bloodline deserves better.”
Even though my stomach is far fuller than it’s ever been, I force myself to lift a final forkful to my lips, chewing slowly as if his words have no power over me.
Lyra watches me, her gaze narrowed. “Have you nothing to say to this welp?”
“No,” I say, drawing on every ounce of courage I have. “I don’t know him, and I don’t care to. I never asked for his opinion on my worthiness, therefore it is of no value.”
A surprised laugh escapes Kaden, quickly smothered.
“She has fire, at least,” Levi concedes, his lip curling slightly. “Only time will tell if that will compensate for her limitations.”
“Perhaps you should concern yourself with your own limitations,” comes Ryker’s voice, cold and dangerous, from directly behind Levi.
The entire hall falls silent as the alpha stalks through the doors. He moves across the room to stand behind me, his hands coming to rest possessively on my shoulders. Through our bond, I feel his tightly controlled fury.
“Alpha,” Levi acknowledges, bowing his head though his posture remains stiff. “I meant no disrespect to you.”
“But you meant it toward my mate,” Ryker’s voice is deceptively soft. “Which is the same thing.”
A tense silence stretches between them. I can feel the power dynamics shifting, other wolves watching with bated breath. This confrontation carries meaning beyond the immediate moment. It’s about establishing boundaries, about Ryker making clear where I stand in the pack hierarchy.
“My apologies, Alpha Female,” Levi finally says, the words extracted rather than sincere. “I spoke without appropriate consideration.”
I incline my head slightly, neither fully accepting norrejecting his apology. There’s a whisper of Ryker’s voice in the back of my mind.
Nicely done.
“See that it doesn’t happen again,” Ryker says, his hands squeezing my shoulders gently. “Remember this the next time you question my mate’s worth—you’re questioning my judgment as Alpha. Consider carefully if that’s a challenge you wish to make.”
Levi’s jaw tightens, but he bows his head deeper. “Understood, Alpha.”
As he retreats, the tension in the hall gradually dissolves, conversations resuming in hushed tones. Ryker slides onto the bench beside me, his thigh pressing against mine, his presence a tangible claim of territory.
“Making friends?” he murmurs, just loud enough for those at our table to hear.
“I hope so,” I reply honestly.
He leans in, his lips a fraction of an inch from mine. His smile is slow and predatory. Languid heat pools in my belly, and I wait for him to kiss me—heart thudding, breath caught.
Instead, he swipes a piece of venison clean off my plate with his fingers and pops it into his mouth.
“Hey!” I protest, sharper than I intended. “I was saving that.”
He grins, unrepentant. “You’re full.”
My hand tightens around the edge of the table as I try not to allow my distress to transmit through our bond. “I just—no, you’re right. You should eat.”
His brow furrows slightly, but he keeps his voice teasing. “Kitara, there’s more meat in the kitchens.”
“I know,” I lie, looking everywhere but at him.
Intellectually, I do know there’s more food in their kitchens. That no one’s going to yank the bowl away from me or ration out my portions with suspicion.
But knowing it doesn’t change the instinct.
I’ve learned that lesson far too many times. Food is precious. Scarcity is real. And having extra stored away means I’ll rarely go to bed with a gnawing, empty stomach—something I did far too often as a pup. Hunger carves its habits deep.
