The wild, untamed heat of the Lycan had finally settled back beneath our skin as we shifted into our human forms, but the heavy, intoxicating echo of the glacial knot still thrummed softly in the deepest depths of my core.
The air near the waterfall was growing cooler, riding down from the mountain peaks in a crisp breeze, yet as Varg's massive, warm hand slid seamlessly into mine, locking our fingers together with an iron-clad possessiveness—as if binding our very bones—the mountain chill didn't stand a chance. He was an Alpha King with molten lava running through his veins, and his touch alone was enough to shield me from all the winters of the world, even in human form.
