Callum wouldn’t find us.
Euphemia’s grace and beauty were astounding. I had expected her to fight us—to resist the bond that trespassed against her contempt for my people. Yet here she was, staying close at my side. I rested my hand at her waist, drawing her in to press a kiss to the snow-dusted scarf covering her head.
“Let me take care of you,” I murmured softly.“Let me ease your pain.”
She pushed her scarf down and glanced up at me. Her pupils were blown wide, and she nodded—just once—before anothercramp seized her. She grimaced and fisted my lapel, breath hitching.
I didn’t hesitate. I scooped her into my arms, pressing her firmly against my chest to steady her, to reassure her, and carried her toward the bedroom.
“Why does it need to hurt?” she whispered as I set her carefully on the bed.
It’s because it’s her first heat. Tell her it won’t hurt for long, Wulfric whined.
“Wulfric says it’s because it’s your first heat,” I said gently as I began to unbutton her coat.“It won’t hurt for long, sweetness.”
Her head snapped up.
“It talks to you?”
“He won’t shut up,” I muttered.
Despite the pain, Euphemia smiled—and the sight of it struck us both like a blow.
I felt as though I stood on the edge of something vast, on the brink of tipping into a life I could never step back from. Not because I didn’t know that nothing would ever be the same after tonight—but because of what Euphemia was giving me.
Her trust.
Her choice.
Her willingness to believe that we would be a good mate for her.
Wulfric began to purr, the sound slow and deep, meant for her alone. Beneath it, I felt everything he could not put into words—relief, awe, gratitude—vibrating through my chest.
I no longer knew if it was the beast or the man in me, but when her coat slipped down her arms, and her aroma reached me, I had to take a step back before I lost all sense.
“Prepare your nest,” I rasped.
She blinked, her expression blank, before she raised her chin and sniffed the air.
Just as she turned to reach for my clothing, I pulled away and stalked toward the hearth.
I needed the fire burning for her.
My rut was coming—and there was no stopping it now. Whether she was ready or not, my instincts were sharpening, slipping loose of restraint. Feral.
Months of waiting.
Each torturous day spent inhaling her scent.
Watching her awaken—slowly, unknowingly.
Now the scent she gave off had deepened, clinging to me like living tendrils, wrapping around my thoughts, sinking into my blood, triggering something vast. Something ancient.
My hand trembled as I hurled thick chunks of wood into the fireplace, the logs striking stone with dull, violent thuds.
The fire caught quickly.
The flames lapped together—
