Third Person POV
Nash lay sprawled across his bed in the shadows of his quarters, his hands opening and closing in futile rage. The thick bandages wrapped around his torso felt like chains, suffocating him with every breath. Since his return from the High Council days ago, restlessness had consumed him entirely. The challenge from one of his own council members still burned fresh in his memory. The bastard had sensed it immediately. Nash's wolf was gone.
The fight had been brutal. Even without his wolf, Nash possessed enough raw strength to defend himself, but barely. His body bore the evidence of his struggle. Deep gashes covered his arms and chest. Bruises painted his skin in shades of purple and black. Recovery would take weeks, not days.
His wolf had been his constant companion since childhood. Now there was nothing. The beast had vanished the instant that treacherous woman Seraphine allowed Theodore to sink his fangs into her throat and claim her as his mate.
