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A maid—not Marigold, who is not even a maid but has been known to take on said duties whenever she wants to get fucked—brought them food an hour ago, so I presume their hunger is sated, and they are ready for their first day.

I note the way Jude looks down at his mate. With a tight smile, he squeezes his hand over hers.

Fawn radiates shy and meek. I cannot wait to get her away from her Wolf and begin testing her responses.

“Good, you are all here,” Seven says. “Eiden and Nox should accompany Fawn’s first trip to the Royal Woodland. Jude, I would like to give you a tour of the city and introduce you to key people. As a former pack enforcer, you will want to familiarize yourself with our defense and protection here. Satisfy yourself regarding Fawn’s safety. I want you both to feel welcome. For this to become your forever home. A tour with Fawn later would be advisable, too, but I know she is eager for her first shift.”

Seven uses his reasonable tone, which is not actually reasonable and is more of an order to subjects. He has been the Master Stag for five years and was the royal prince before. Even so, he is Seven. I don’t even think he realizes he is issuing statements like commands most of the time.

Of course, I would ignore him if I was so inclined unless it was an actual order, when I wouldmostlydo as he says.

Fawn is thrumming with excitement at the mention of shifting.

Jude is not happy about Seven separating them.

“Eiden and Nox are highly capable and trained warriors,” Seven continues. “Your mate shall come to no harm. I believe she has already taken to Eiden and feels comfortable in his presence.”

“Yes, she was very fucking comfortable with his head between her legs,” Jude growls.

“Wolf!”

It is the first rash explosion I have heard from Fawn. I catalog every nuance of the loving couple engaging in their first public spat. She has snatched her hand from his and is now glaring at her mate.

“You clearly did not rut her enough that she has this much energy,” I goad.

Eiden groans quietly.

Fawn gasps.

Jude glares at me like he is thinking about rearranging my face. He takes Fawn’s hand back and closes his other hand around the back of her neck, rubbing his thumb soothingly against the side of her throat while eyeballing me. It is a possessive, dominant move, and I like how she instantly softens and submits.

Eiden remembers to close his mouth after a stretched moment.

“Good, that’s settled then,” Seven says.

I do not believe it is settled, but Seven is a presumptuous bastard, and for once, I appreciate that.

I just want to get the little doe away from her Wolf… and play.

“Can Blue come with us?” Fawn asks.

“Of course,” Eiden says, all eager puppy. Their mixed scent is a heady thing, and I can only imagine how hard it is for the two omegas not to touch one another.

The impasse is broken.

Jude kisses the top of Fawn’s head and releases her slowly, and though under a great strain.

Eiden and I take Fawn to the Royal Woodland, which is located within the city, enclosed by a long semi-circular wall that meets the sheer face of the mountain on one side and the palace wall on the other. Normally, there would be gardeners and workers keeping the natural beauty in order.

Not today. They have all been ordered away so she can have her first playtime uninterrupted. Also, while the feral side of Eiden’s stag only shows during the most severe skirmishes, noone wants to take any risk lest some poor worker rouses his hyper-protective side in this early stage of their bonding.

The dog is a fucking nuisance, chasing every squirrel it sees and catching none, but I will put up with anything for the pleasure of seeing Fawn in her sweet doe form.

Her tail, so small and cute, wags at absolutely everything. She is surely the most joyful creature in all the kingdom as she bounds and skips over the smallest, most ridiculous pretend obstacles, chasing butterflies, sniffling flowers, and collecting an entourage of curious bunnies… until her witless mutt chases them away.

I follow, salivating. The elegant line of her throat, her shapely hind legs, that fucking tail like a beacon drawing my hunter’s gaze toward her ass, enticing me to rut.

Eiden’s stag prances at her side like a giant, frisky pup. Not a hint of the feral side that sends both enemy and battle-hardened stags running for cover when something tips him over the edge.