IVAN'S POV
The next few days, since the failed separation ritual, were spent in a state of unrest.
And by unrest, I meant I avoided Maeve like the plague.
I could hardly sleep at night, or eat, or blink, or go a single second without nearly tearing myself apart for losing my sanity before Maeve.
She wasn't supposed to find out about that — I'd long since been diagnosed by Revierre for having a restless wolf as a result of the distance between myself and my fated mate.
Or at least, that was what we thought it was at first — my wolf's desperate need to be with his beloved.
But, like cancer, it extended to aggressive outbursts, rage of unbridled limits, and the itch — goddess, the fucking itch — to find her by all means possible.
It haunted my mind with nightmares, poisoned my thoughts with anger at myself, eroded my sanity, and almost killed my mind. It came with the wrath bond — growing only more unstable as the years went by.
