21

PAIN kept Charles awake while his mate and the rogue slept. His leg and chest were making it quite clear that he’d been pushing too hard. If he wasn’t careful, he wasn’t going to make it down the mountains. But it was the thought of the witch that kept him alert as the snowstorm wailed around them.

He’d never felt anything like that, obedience wrapping him in impossible layers until he could do nothing but respond as she asked. He was too dominant for even his father to do that—but he’d heard it described. The descriptions had fallen short by a long shot. If he hadn’t already been convinced of the correctness of his father’s careful screening of the dominants under his rule before he allowed them to become Alphas, that would have done it. How terrifying it was for someone to have that kind of power over you, even if you trusted him. His respect for the bravery of the submissives in his father’s pack had gone up another couple of notches.