"In the hush of the garden, love was not gentle; it was fire breaking through stone, unstoppable, undeniable."
ALARIC'S POV
The North was never silent. Not truly. Even at this hour, when the corridors were empty and the castle windows glowed faint with starlight, I could feel it breathing the restless shift of stone and frost, the whisper of wolves pacing beyond the walls.
I could feel him. Gods, I could feel him like a pulse in my veins, a second heartbeat that throbbed in rhythm with mine. He was here, in the East Quarter. Close enough that the bond clawed at me with teeth and fire, demanding I move, claim, take. I had spent an hour in my chamber before the walls became a cage. The Thornes had left me to "rest," but I could not. My wolf is feral, ravenous, paced under my skin. Black snarled every time I tried to reason with myself, every time I whispered that dawn would bring court, that I should wait.
