Scent of Betrayal, Law of the Pack

I had just stepped out of a pack gathering with my den-mates, the lingering scent of roasted game still clinging to my fur-trimmed cloak.

That's when I caught their scent first—a mated pair's mingled aroma drifting from the window alcove of the tavern across the cobblestone path. The male was carefully stripping meat from bone for the female, his attention completely devoted to her, his wolf's contentment radiating in waves I could taste on the night air.

My den-mate let out a soft, longing sigh. "See, that's what a true bond looks like."