Soft come the dragons

Laughter bubbled on her lips. "You're so endearing," Koontz told him. Even as she said it, a thought occurred to her. He was handsome, charming, funny and, now, he held a very important title: Alpha male. Surely he would catch the eyes of other females when they joined the pack. Possibly, Pitch already had an eye on the eligible bachelor. Koontz frowned, wondering if this would mean she'd have to compete for the Alpha female rank.

Deciding not to worry about it just now, Koontz belatedly realized just why Ariston had mentioned Pitch's kill. "Oh," she blurted, "you meant I should eat Pitch's catch. Sorry, I didn't connect the dots there. I'm okay with leftovers, though I still say we check out the herd after I eat." She felt oddly guilty for not only overlooking the Alpha's suggestion of an easy meal—caught by their very first subordinate aside from Ray—but his dislike of hunting, period.

She reminded herself that the practice would be good for him regardless. So she went with it. "Let's grab those leftovers. Then I'll take the lead," she replied belatedly. "But remember: this isn't a lion pride," she joked lightly, tail swaying. "We're not going to do all the hunting for you. I'm going to make it my personal mission to whip you into prime hunting shape, in honor of Mo." Ariston knew all about her mother, of course. "I suppose Pitch can help too," she added, trying her best to ignore the slight prickling under her skin.