The crash of shattering glass.
Cold air exploding against fur.
We were outside.
Snowflakes drifted down—light, slow, drifting like ash. But there was no chill. Only heat. A burning, furnace heat that lived inside me—inside us.
A pale beam swept across the land.
The moon was high and bright. It was the same full moon from my dream.
Watching. Bearing witness to my madness.
Wulfric’s joy surged like fire in my veins as he tore across the ground. Grass flattened under us. Branches snapped. Thickets flew past in blurs as he ran faster, harder, wilder—drunk on freedom.
I could only hold on.
A moment later he came to an abrupt stop.
His massive body went still, muscles coiled, breath steaming in the air.
Then Wulfric lifted his head to the sky.
He howled.
Long and loud—so powerful it cracked across the moor and echoed back in waves.
He howled again.
This time for her.
Calling her.
Claiming her.
Before I could even process the sound, he veered sharply and sprinted along the edge of the loch, paws pounding through the thin layer of snow.
Running toward her scent.
Running to our mate.
The only thing that made sense.
Euphemia.
Chapter 14
Euphemia
The blood-curdling howl ripped me out of sleep.
I jerked upright, heart hammering, blinking into the darkness just as a second howl tore through the night—longer, deeper, drenched in a kind of pain I’d never heard from any living creature.
A thump came from the next pallet. I jumped—but Uncle Callum’s grumbling followed a moment later.
I heard Aunt Flora whispering with him before his heavy boots hit the floorboards. I wrapped my shawl tight around my shoulders, swung my legs over the pallet, and shoved my cold feet into my boots. Curiosity tugged harder than sense, so I followed him outside.
He stood in the garden near the low stone wall.
