Bearclaw Valley When my time comes around

tvar’s ears flick back as cole speaks, his snort loud; obnoxious, and angry. he shouldn’t care—he tells himself that much—but the irritation bubbling under his skin says otherwise. so, he grunts: dolce’s just another brute, a claim laced with derision. he's fucking insecure. men like that are always looking for the next thing to claim. should've seen how he looked at me when he caught her scent on me. then comes a chuckle, though it isn't amused; it's dark, almost like he wished dolce tried something.

would've laid him out flat then and there. it's a fucking fact.

he steps over a fallen branch, his tail flicking sharply as his gaze sweeps the sparse woods ahead. and as far as rala goes, i've put her behind me. let her make her mistakes. i've got a woman with pups on the way and that's all i care about. there’s a bite to his words, the kind that comes from someone too used to watching others get dragged into messes they could’ve avoided.

he casts a glance toward cole, his lip twitching faintly. but what do i know? maybe they’ll prove me wrong.