"You were supposed to stay in the guest house," Lyander said, voice tightening. "This part of the forest isn't safe."
"I needed a bath," Liora replied with a matter of fact tone, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "Is that a crime? Unlike you wolves, we humans can't just lick each other clean. Some of us actually need water and soap."
He didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Because she looked like sin and salvation all at once, and he hadn't craved anyone like this in years. Not since the scars. Not since before the betrayal.
Not since their mate.
But Liora didn't look at his scars. She didn't look at him like he was broken or dangerous. She looked at him like she was daring him to take one more step.
And gods help him—
He wanted to.
He wanted to close the space between them. To feel her breath on his neck. To see if her lips tasted as fierce as her eyes promised. To touch her skin and know that she was real.
But he didn't.
