Some loves do not ask for permission. They arrive like storms violent, sacred, and unwilling to be caged."
ALARIC'S POV
The moment he tore from my arms, I felt the break like a physical wound. Elias's scent still clung to my skin, sweet, sharp, intoxicating, and yet the chamber felt hollow without him in it. I stood in the secret garden long after he was gone, staring at the place where his figure had vanished into the moonlight, his wolf's fury rolling like a storm.
"Damn it," I muttered, slamming my fist against the stone wall. The ivy trembled under the force.
Vayne prowled inside me, his claws raking. You pushed too hard. He was yours at that moment, and you let anger twist it. I gritted my teeth. I did not let him go. He chose to leave.
