His eyes were wrong. Not quite gold, not quite amber, something in between, like a color war was being fought behind his irises. His jaw was clenched so tight she could see muscle jumping beneath his skin. And his hands, she noticed with cold clarity, bore fresh scratches across the knuckles, as if he'd been dragging them across rough bark.
Or forcing claws back down beneath human skin.
"From me," he admitted, the words forced out through gritted teeth. "The wolf is... restless. Too close to the surface. You need to...." He stopped, his eyes tracking to her throat, her pulse point, before snapping away with visible effort. "You need to not be near me right now."
Liora stood there in the freezing dawn, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, studying the man who'd tortured her, protected her, kept vigil over her sleep, and was now standing in the cold fighting his own nature to keep her safe from himself.
"How long have you been out here?" she asked quietly.
