Clara was very specific with the orders she gave and Dixon could only watch in admiration of the way his she-wolf was handling precisely those wolves that in the past they had considered to be extremely aggressive. And now, he himself was inside a pack of Wildlings. His mate... their alpha.

Fenrir had been taken back to the house along with the she-wolf that was taking care of him, while Clara gathered in the middle of the pack along with other males.

Dixon didn't leave his side, but he wouldn't lie. He really wasn't comfortable with that situation. His she-wolf, his mate surrounded by other males. Even though he had bitten her and impregnated her with pheromones marking her as his, he wasn't familiar with that kind of scene. Still, he restrained himself.

He had lost Clara in the past because of the way he was, he could not afford to lose her again or embarrass her in front of all those who looked at him with devotion and admiration.

And apparently they were adapted to this kind of si