"Zeyrak…" Zevryn took a deep breath to steady himself, the air around him thick with the faint scent of the lavender oils that still lingered from his bath.
His fingers flexed slightly against the edge of the tub, droplets sliding down his wrist as he forced his voice to remain calm. "While you felt that mate bond, I had dreamt about that time when Liliath had told me how she wanted to have a wolf. And if she ever had one, she would want its name to be Lily...similar to hers."
The quiet room seemed to grow still at his words, only the faint crackle of the fire from the adjoining chamber filling the silence.
Zevryn felt Zeyrak's restlessness ripple through his mind, a pulse of agitation that mirrored his own. It was as if the wolf inside him shared the same quickened heartbeat, the same edge of disbelief and longing clawing at his chest.
