Aurora
Jaxson works hard, too hard in my opinion, but he has been quiet the last few hours. I lay on the couch, my wounded leg still useless but my back healed with our mating mark finally back where it belongs, from who it belongs to. He helped with a burial for the lost pack members, but he won’t tell me who was killed in the royal raid.
I can see him struggling to clear his mind, sweeping away the glass on the floor from the broken window of our hut. He is meticulous, and a little bit abrupt, stopping me when I lean forward to stand, his heavy hand find my shoulder and guiding me back down with just a stoic look.
“What do you need?” he asks, his tone stiff.
I motion for the kitchen, my mouth dry and my head light. “I was going to make some coffee,” I hum, seeing his dark eyes and w
