The Savage Alpha's Claim
A single bloodberry crushed between thumb and forefinger stains her glove the colour of a fresh wound. Mhairi holds her hand up to the grey dawn light and watches the juice run toward her wrist.
One berry buys her brother perhaps another hour of breath. She needs a hundred times that, and they grow only on the other side of the stream, past the squat carved boundary stones with their spiral patterns.
Finlay MacKinnon walked forty miles to come home, and the fever came home with him. He was twelve the last time it took him; he came out of it with a limp and a tremor in his left hand. Their mother died that winter and their father the next spring, and since then there has only been an uncle who refused them help.
The healer will say what she always says: she can slow it, not cure it. The cure is bloodberries, which fruit only in autumn under the Hunt Moon, in a glen that belongs to the alpha.
*"He's not the monster the stories make him out to be. But he's not a generous man, either."*
And there is a price named before Mhairi ever crosses the water. The MacBain wolves will not attack one of their own kind, but the alpha may claim her as a forfeit, which means her body, her blood and her loyalty, pack property.
Lachlan MacBain took his pack at twenty-two, the youngest alpha in living memory. His hands are scarred from the fire that killed his father and his uncle. He faced three challenges in his first year and won all three, and the third left him a broken nose and a gash from temple to jaw.
Mhairi kneels at a stream to drink in the middle of his territory and hears breathing that is not her own. Something large, close, unhurried. She stands up with water dripping from her chin and tells it exactly why she is there.
A closed-door shifter romance set in the pinewoods and glens around Glen Morar, about a woman who trades herself for a fistful of berries, and what happens to a bargain when both parties start keeping their side of it for the wrong reasons.
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One berry buys her brother perhaps another hour of breath. She needs a hundred times that, and they grow only on the other side of the stream, past the squat carved boundary stones with their spiral patterns.
Finlay MacKinnon walked forty miles to come home, and the fever came home with him. He was twelve the last time it took him; he came out of it with a limp and a tremor in his left hand. Their mother died that winter and their father the next spring, and since then there has only been an uncle who refused them help.
The healer will say what she always says: she can slow it, not cure it. The cure is bloodberries, which fruit only in autumn under the Hunt Moon, in a glen that belongs to the alpha.
*"He's not the monster the stories make him out to be. But he's not a generous man, either."*
And there is a price named before Mhairi ever crosses the water. The MacBain wolves will not attack one of their own kind, but the alpha may claim her as a forfeit, which means her body, her blood and her loyalty, pack property.
Lachlan MacBain took his pack at twenty-two, the youngest alpha in living memory. His hands are scarred from the fire that killed his father and his uncle. He faced three challenges in his first year and won all three, and the third left him a broken nose and a gash from temple to jaw.
Mhairi kneels at a stream to drink in the middle of his territory and hears breathing that is not her own. Something large, close, unhurried. She stands up with water dripping from her chin and tells it exactly why she is there.
A closed-door shifter romance set in the pinewoods and glens around Glen Morar, about a woman who trades herself for a fistful of berries, and what happens to a bargain when both parties start keeping their side of it for the wrong reasons.
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