EVELYN’S POV
'Gods, I hope my breath isn’t stale.'
That was probably not the appropriate thought to have when Lucian stood so close that I could feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing in the space between us, could see the conflict tearing through him with every rise and fall of his chest.
Moonlight spilled through the windows beside us, washing the corridor in silver and shadow, and beneath it, his silver-ringed eyes looked unreal.
Wild. Dangerous.
There was so much…need there. And fear, too.
From the little I knew about werewolves, I understood enough to know that the full moon was affecting him. That, beneath its light, the wolf and the man blurred together in ways humans and witches would never comprehend.
I knew I should have been afraid of the look in his eyes.
I knew I should have pushed him away and run for the hills.
Instead, warmth spread through me in slow, bewildering waves even as my heart pounded a wild rhythm against my ribcage.
