Avery watched the Alpha’s silhouette through the steam of the kitchen, her spirit a tangled thicket of confusion. Never in her cycles within the Silver Ridge had she envisioned the high-born Hudson Montgomery deigning to touch a cooking hearth. His sudden shift to benevolence was a jagged pill to swallow. Perhaps his wolf felt the sting of shame for how Madison Clarke had desecrated her chambers, and this was his way of offering a blood-restitution. Yet, to Avery, such peace offerings were seasons too late.

To her shock, Hudson produced a spread fit for a post-hunt feast. Expecting charred meat, Avery was genuinely stunned by the aromatic elegance of the...