DRAVEN'S POV.
It started as a burn.
A slow, creeping ache beneath my skin that I'd learned to ignore years ago. But tonight…it was worse.
Every time I thought of her, the fire flared higher.
Every time I imagined her face, her voice, her scent…gods, that scent, it felt like my veins were turning to molten iron.
I pressed my palm to the stone wall, trying to steady myself. The castle's corridors were silent, but my heartbeat thundered against the walls like war drums. My claws threatened to break through my skin.
The wolf was restless again. No—restless wasn't the word. It was furious.
"She's human," I muttered to the empty hall, trying to anchor myself in reason. "You can't have her."
The words did nothing. The growl that rose from my chest wasn't entirely mine.
