Mate.
Pain lanced behind my eyes. My heart thundered so hard it rattled my ribs as I flew down the stairs, nearly tripping in my haste. I flung the front door open with enough force to crack the hinges and sprinted across the grounds.
The cold air bit into my face.
I did not slow.
I could not.
The moment I slipped into the shadowed line of trees, he pushed upward.
Not fully taking control—no, not yet—but guiding me.
Twisting my feet along the quietest paths.
Turning my head toward every faint trace of her scent.
I followed his lead.
Not because I trusted him.
But because his need mirrored mine—wild, scraping, starving.
Each day he grew louder.
Stronger.
More certain of himself.
I am the master, I told him fiercely.
A ripple of dark amusement slid through my chest.
He scoffed.
And God help me, I followed the beast.
My lungs burned from the sprint and I leaned into the tree, dragging in long, sharp breaths. From this slope I could see everything—the loch, the reeds… and her. No uncle in sight.
Just the girl.
Euphemia, he snapped.
I ignored him.
Her scarf came off first.
She undid her braid and my fingers curled tight around the branch above me.
“Dear God,” I croaked as her hair tumbled free.
A curtain of deep, impossible red spilling down to the curve of her backside.
A memory?
A dream?
Something half-forgotten tugged at me, familiar as breath.
