Nash’s pov
I slammed my hands flat onto the heavy oak desk, staring down at Doctor Luther’s latest medical report under the soft glow of the oil lamp.
The study was silent, save for the frantic, ceaseless pacing of my beast inside my head. It was past midnight, but my mind refused to quiet down.
I reached out, my fingers hovering over the paper detailing Tabitha’s recovery before I curled my hand into a tight fist.
Tabitha carried my mark. It throbbed with my exact blood, smelling of cedar and storm, a physical claim recognized by every law in this territory. Every Alpha instinct I possessed should have locked onto her, tethering my soul to hers with fierce, unquestionable devotion.
So why did sitting beside her feel like standing in an empty room?
I’d spent two hours in her quarters
