To Rule the Alpha's Heart

19. Idoneah

Calla frowned, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her blanket. "I'm sorry. It must have been a shock when Alpha Einarr returned with me."

Idoneah held her gaze before slowly nodding.

Calla pitied her. Idoneah had been expecting a grand Mating Feast upon Einarr's return, but she'd been forced to serve Calla instead. She intended to scold Einarr for his thoughtlessness later. For now, she did not want Idoneah to waste more of her time in servitude.

Calla attempted to muster a smile for the young female. "You must go enjoy the rest of the celebrations, Idoneah. I will rest now."

Idoneah hesitated, then bowed her head. "As you wish, Luna."

Before Calla could try to correct the woman's formality, she left the tent.

☽☽☽

Einarr did not return to the tent that evening. It was the second night in a row that Calla laid alone, and, despite her mental exhaustion, the empty space beside her on the bed made it impossible to sleep. Instead, Calla tossed back and forth on the blankets, unable to calm her restless thoughts.

She didn't know where Einarr could be. Had she truly angered him so much that he refused to retire to his own, comfortable lodgings? Or, perhaps her refusal had driven Einarr to seek the company of another woman that evening...

The thought bothered Calla more than she cared to admit.

She was still awake when dawn broke across the Nortend sky. The sun's white light penetrated the tent's elkskin canvas, bright enough to prevent Calla from finding true rest in the morning.

She slid from the bed, shivering against the cold morning air that prickled her naked body. The clothing that Idoneah brought the night before still sat on the foot of the bed, so Calla scrambled to investigate the scraps of fabric.

To Calla's pleasure, a thin chemise awaited her, which she eagerly draped over her body for coverage. The chemise would protect Calla's sensitive skin from the roughness of the brown frock that she'd been given as well. The dress was hardly flattering on Calla's small body, but she supposed it was better than the thin scraps of leather that the shifters wore. The frock, however ugly, would at least keep her warm.

Once dressed, Calla dropped to her knees at the foot of the bed and prayed to the Seven. Her mother always complained that Calla did not pray to the gods enough, especially for a Seer. But Calla had long since grown disillusioned by speaking to the gods that did not care to speak to her. Unlike her mother, Calla had never received a vision from the Seven.

In Eatrela, Calla had always prayed that her prophesying gifts would develop. Now, she simply begged for the gods' protection.

She was still on her knees when the tent's entrance flapped open, and Calla's eyes snapped open. Einarr strode inside, clad in the same leathers as yesterday.

He paused, his head tilted to one side as he beheld Calla kneeling on the floor. "Are you unwell, maraname?"

Calla's heart accelerated in her chest as she drank in the sight of him. It was the first time that she saw his long, dark hair falling freely over his shoulders and down his back. She always thought that Einarr could not possibly become more attractive, and yet... Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch the beautiful mane.

"Calla?" Einarr frowned, his eyes darkening.

Her mouth had gone dry, so Calla hastily stood from her position at the foot of the bed and turned to face Einarr. She cleared her throat. "Where were you?"

"With the elders and my Sanguin," Einarr answered, gruff. He further entered the tent, walking past Calla toward a chest in the corner of the room. She forced herself not to inhale his scent as he passed.

"S-sanguin?" Calla echoed, following him with her gaze.

He stooped to open the wooden chest and retrieve a new pair of trousers inside. To Calla's dismay, he unbuckled the belt that held his current leathers in place. "My inner council."

Heat soared to Calla's cheeks as Einarr's pants fell to the floor with a soft thud, but she could not make herself look away. She'd never seen his naked body in the light of day.

An inordinate amount of muscle was packed onto Einarr's long legs. Ridges that contracted and shifted beneath his tanned skin with even the slightest movement. Turned toward the wooden chest, Einarr's backside appeared tight and round, but there was no sight of the sinful appendage that had caused Calla such pain and pleasure.

As quickly as he disrobed, Einarr redressed in new pants and turned around. Calla ripped her eyes from his body and studied her hands instead, while her thighs clenched together to quell the treacherous warmth that pooled in her core. Her body only grew hotter as Einarr approached.

He stopped directly in front of her, towering above where she sat on the foot of the bed. Calla's eyes trailed up his body, snagging on the strange bulge that had formed in the inseam of his pants. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You did not tell me about Idoneah." Calla's eyelids fluttered as she forced her eyes back to his.

A little line formed between his brows. "Idoneah?"

"Your betrothed," Calla persisted, clenching her jaw.

Einarr narrowed his dark gray eyes, confusion plain on his features.

"Be-trothed?" he repeated, kneeling until he was eye-level with Calla. She realized that he did not recognize the word.

"Yes," she explained, her cheeks flaming. "The female you were meant to-to.. to mate with."

To Calla's dismay, one corner of Einarr's lips twitched upward. "Idoneah is a fine warrior. There are many who wished for me to mount her for the sake of the pack."

Calla's stomach turned as a newfound darkness seeped into Einarr's slate gray orbs. He continued, leaning closer until she could barely suppress the urge to scramble backward on the bed.

"I will cut the tongues of any who dare suggest such a thing, now. You are my Luna, drekihjar."

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