Ryder instinctively glared at Elara,his voice cold with suspicion.“My Mate and I share a strong,functional bond,Elder.”
Elder Weston was already gone,lost to the scent trails,so it was unclear if he had heard.
But Lyra definitely did.
She leaned into Ryder,feigning a drunken wobble.Her eyes,magnified by her emotional state,were watery as she whispered,“Ryder...Am I disrupting the sanctity of your claim with Elara?”
Before he could respond,her face crumpled in practiced grief,and she struggled to pull away.“You are no longer my adopted Alpha...You have a Mate now...I shouldn’t be a burden.I must return to my solitary den.”
Ryder seized her tighter,his powerful hands gripping her upper arms.
His voice dropped to a pitch so soft it could melt the mountain ice,laden with raw protectiveness.“I may not be the Alpha who formally raised you...But you are always welcome and safe within my territory,Lyra.”
His burning gaze,full of an inappropriate depth of feeling,made Lyra’s face turn an even deeper shade of scarlet.Meanwhile,Elara stood a few feet away,observing the scene like a useless human sentinel guarding a bond that didn't exist.
Finally,Ryder seemed to recall her presence.Releasing Lyra,he looked at Elara with a fleeting flicker of guilt.“Elara...You don’t mind,do you?Lyra is my pack-sister,after all.”
He had already prepared the placating words—the Alpha rituals to soothe a jealous Mate.
But she only offered him a faint,hollow smile and said,“I do not mind,Alpha.”
Those three words were light and airy,yet they felt like a jagged piece of bone stabbing into her own heart.
The next morning,Elara woke up and instinctively reached for the other side of the massive,custom-made bed.Ryder’s side was already cold and empty.The bed only smelled of the residual musk of Alpha sleep—no lingering presence.She pulled on her silk robe and walked barefoot down the third-floor hallway,looking down toward Lyra’s temporary chamber on the second floor.
Through the slightly ajar door,she caught the scene.Ryder,the Alpha King,was carefully feeding Lyra a bowl of a pack remedy for the ceremonial mead hangover.
When Lyra frowned and pouted,Ryder gently blew on the spoon to cool the broth.When she complained about her tangled hair,he picked up a comb—a human,delicate tool—and skillfully tied a complex,beautiful ponytail for her.