"Careful," Nancy said firmly as Asher was guided into his quarters âformly Henryâsâ his arms thrown around Romanâs shoulder while Jeremiah cleared the way.
Though Asherâs jaw was set, his breathing was shallow, and he was weak as hell. As the new Alpha of the West pack, it had been pride alone that kept him standing before his people. The West valued strength above all else, and even after a brutal battle, he could not afford to show weakness.
Only when they crossed the threshold of his home â where no outsider could witness his fall â did he finally allow himself to let go.
"On the bed," Nancy instructed.
Roman adjusted his grip, lowering him slowly. As soon as Asherâs body hit the mattress, a deep groan tore from his throat. He could only lie on his side; his shoulder was ruined, half his flesh bitten clean through where Dominicâs fangs had sunk deep.
The wound on his ribs was no better. Three claw marks slashed across his side, healing painfully slowly. Unlike a clean break or even a knife wound, wolf-inflicted injuries resisted their natural regeneration. Some said it was the venom laced in a wolfâs saliva, others blamed the disruption of pack magic, but everyone knew that claw and bite wounds lingered longer than they should.
At least the bleeding had stopped. That was something. The raw, angry flesh gleamed but no fresh blood seeped. Asher exhaled through clenched teeth and tried to shift his position on the bed, but that move made the pain flare up and he groaned.
Roman leaned over him. "Donât worry. Itâll be fine. Ireneâs already called for a healer. They should be here soon."
Asher gave a small nod, though his thoughts werenât on healers. Pain was nothing new; he could endure it. What he wanted and longed for was Violet. If she were here, it would be different. Her touch would soothe him and her voice would turn this pain into nothing more than background noise.
The door creaked, and Nancy reappeared with a basin of water and cloth. She set them down and knelt beside the bed, her sleeves already rolled up. Roman instinctively reached for the towel. "Let me."
Nancy froze him with a glare so sharp it stopped him cold. "Move away."
Roman held up his hands in surrender and stepped away for her to do her work.
Nancy then dipped the towel into the cool water, wrung it out, and began to wipe the dirt and blood from Asherâs skin. Her touch was careful, and motherly.
When she noticed Romanâs stare, she
murmured, her voice tight with emotion"If it hadnât been for him, I wouldnât have met Ezra. I wouldnât have this life. This is the least I can do."
Asherâs eyes cracked open, his voice hoarse. "You donât need to."
"I need to," Nancy shot back stubbornly, pressing a little harder on the cloth. "Iâm sure my daughter would have agreed, too. Youâre my son now, Asher. My responsibility is to take care of you."
Asher knew there was no point in arguing. Stubbornness was clearly a trait that run in the family.
On the bright side, Asher was wearing boxers. Modesty meant little among wolves â nudity was as natural as shifting â but Nancy was still adjusting. She cleaned him carefully, her face pinching with every hiss he made, and when she reached his shoulder she stopped, shaking her head at the savagery of the wound.
"Dominic is an animal," she muttered bitterly. "He meant to kill you."
Asher let out a low, humorless laugh. "Killing was the objective of the match, anyway?" Then he asked, "Whereâs your husband?"
"Handling your pack of hyenas," Nancy said, her tone dripping with disdain.
Asher chuckled, then winced from the pain. "Lucky them. Your husband is kind. Unlike me." His voice was edged with steel, a threat even from a sickbed.
Nancy nodded. "Youâre right. Ezra is kinder. But everyone has a violent side, Asher. Your sub-alphas would do well not to bring it out of him."
That earned a huff from Asher. Silence fell for a while, until he couldnât hold it in anymore, "Violet? Have you spoken to her?"
Nancy paused. "Not since last night. Today has been chaos. But Iâll call her when Iâm finished here. Iâll tell her you miss her."
"Badly," Asher admitted without shame.
Nancyâs eyes softened. "She misses you too. Youâll see. Soon youâll be together, and bonded, no doubt."
Their gazes locked. Asher knew what she was hinting at. The goddess had already seen fit to tie Violet to the other cardinal alphas. His turn was inevitable, and the pack was watching, waiting for it to happen.
Before he could respond, the door opened. Irene entered briskly, her expression hard with worry, and behind her came an old woman with grey hair bound tight in a braid. She was the healer.
From the way she carried her kit, it was obvious she had no natural healing powers. Werewolves born with such gifts were exceedingly rare, hence Adele was one of a kind. Still, healers were well-versed in werewolf ailments, and with her training she could treat him efficiently.
The air in the room shifted as everyone instinctively gave her space.
Nancy rose at once. "Heâs stable enough for you to work."
The healer stepped forward, her eyes sweeping over Asherâs wounds. "Wolfâs bite," she muttered, touching the raw flesh. "Weâll need poultices and a draught to purge the wolfâs venom before the tissue can knit."
Asher grunted but didnât move. He was an Alpha; showing pain was weakness. Yet when her fingers pressed into his shoulder, a shudder of agony rippled through him.
Roman watched restlessly, while Jeremiah stayed near the door, guarding them.
The healer barked, "I need boiling water, comfrey, and Reemweed tincture. Move!"
No one objected and set to work quickly. Asher needed to be back on his feet, strong and ready for tonightâs coronation.
The West pack await their new Alpha.