CHAPTER 41: TRADITION

Gavin’s eyes are drooping. The elder’s den is warm, the alpha underneath him is warm, the arms around him is warm, even the breath hitting his forehead from where he’s resting it is warm, basically, Gavin is incased in so much warmth that he can’t help but feel sleepy. Plus, the pheromones. The room is filled with shifters of different ranks, it’s only natural that their scents are mixed in the rather large space, Gavin should even be suffocating by now, but Ainar’s scent is overpowering everyone else’s, making it all so bearable for him. Gavin’s nose is buried against the alpha’s neck, just shy of where his scent is the strongest, saving him from whatever ounce of shame still left in him. He’s still quite aware that they’re in a room full of other shifters, and not in the privacy of his shack or the alpha’s cabin. Although Ainar said that it is something that he should not be ashamed of, he still does not feel comfortable showing vulnerability, aside from his alpha.

His brain is fuzz