The night air outside the mansion was sharp and electric, buzzing with anticipation. Somewhere far beyond the walls, the Ashen Circle was moving, silent and deadly, their red eyes like sparks in the darkness. Aria stood on the balcony, silver hair catching the moonlight, her wolf coiling beneath her skin like a living, restless thing.
Damien appeared behind her, silent as a shadow, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him. He leaned against the railing, gaze sweeping the horizon, alert, vigilant—but there was a softness in his posture, a quiet heat reserved only for her.
"They're coming," she said quietly, though she didn't need to. Her wolf whispered the truth anyway.
"I know," Damien replied, voice low and controlled. "And when they do, they'll regret waking the Queen."
Her pulse quickened. Not just from fear. From the electricity of his presence. Every inch of her body recognized the danger he carried—and the desire.
