The following sunrise, as Blake and Riley entered the Turner Studios den, they were greeted by a mountain of tributary gifts piled upon Blake’s mahogany desk. Riley’s eyes darted across the colorful wrappings, a cold pit forming in her stomach as she realized she had completely forgotten it was Blake’s naming day. In seasons past, she’d have meticulously planned a hunt or a private moon-ritual to keep him tethered to her side, ensuring I was left waiting like a discarded stray. But the winds had shifted. After tasting the forbidden adrenaline of her secret trysts with the Judge, Riley found she could no longer return to the mundane loyalty of the pack.
"Blake, my love, the pup has been draining my strength these last few suns," she purred, sliding her arms around his neck and tracing slow
