Rowan's POV
Maeve was a Shadow Lycan.
The words echoed like a broken bell inside my skull. Over and over and over again.
Shadow Lycan.
Maeve.
No matter how many times I said it in my head, it still didn't make sense. Still didn't feel real. Still didn't explain the burn in my chest or the reason why my fists wouldn't unclench.
Fenric was quiet too. Too quiet. My Lycan never shut up, never stopped commenting or snarling or pacing like a storm in my head. But now, it was like he was... thinking.
That's why she smelled like that, he finally muttered, his voice low, distant. Why she drew you in like a flame. That scent. The way it never let go.
I didn't respond. I didn't have to. Because he was right.
That scent had haunted me since I met her. I hated it. Hated how it got under my skin. Hated how she got under my skin. And now I knew why. Because she wasn't human. Not just a human, anyway. She was a Lycan. And not just any Lycan.
A Shadow Lycan.
"Rowan."
