My eyes burned with unshed tears that I refused to let fall. My den-mate tugged at my arm, ready to leave, and I understood: if I pretended I hadn't seen anything, maybe Rogan and I could maintain the illusion a little longer. Keep the surface of our bond smooth and presentable to the pack.
But just as I reached the tavern entrance—
"How much longer do we have to sneak around like this?"
The female's voice, petulant and sharp, carried clearly to my heightened ears.
"My grandfather's moon-cycle celebration is next month. My mother keeps pressing me to present you to the pack formally."
Her words landed like hammer blows against my heart.
"I can't exactly tell them—" she said, each syllable a claw driven deeper into my chest, "—that I'm actually some bonded Alpha's scent-betrayal. That I'm the Omega consort nobody's supposed to know exists."
"And turn my whole bloodline into a laughingstock before the Pack Council."
My footsteps halted on the worn stone floor.