Cyrus looked at her with a deadpan expression, his eyes hard and cold, while Sara trembled under his gaze, trying to make herself smaller and hide as much as possible.
But he was not taking any of the hints to leave her alone. No, he could not. Not when his chest was restless, not when his mind was screaming for answers, and not when his wolf inside him was tearing him apart.
Just last night, he had been wandering in the pack ground when suddenly he caught it... a scent.
It was familiar, so familiar, yet unlike anything else he had ever known. A scent so intoxicating, so deep, it wrapped around him like chains of silk. It pulled him in, closer and closer, until he was submerged completely, like his body was no longer his own.
The scent crawled into his skin, slipped into his blood, and made him relax in a way he had never relaxed before. Every breath, every inhale, only made him crave more.
He wanted it. No—he needed it.
