"Faster! Yes! Just like that! Faster, Your Grace... Don't stop!"
Cherion's voice ripped through the night like a glitch in reality, breathless, chaotic, and immediately stolen by the screaming wind. Anyone within a mile of that mountain pass would have absolutely gotten the wrong idea. The desperate tone, the rhythmic pounding, the borderline scandalous enthusiasm? Yeah. It sounded exactly like the "breaking in" from that note had started way earlier than expected.
Except… not even close.
Because the reality?
Way more fun. And significantly more furry.
Cherion was currently gripping onto thick, midnight-black fur for dear life, white-knuckling it like his survival depended on it. Which, honestly, it kind of did. Beneath him was a wolf the size of a small carriage. A massive, muscle-packed, terrifyingly fast wolf. His legs were locked tight around it, his face buried in warm fur that smelled like pine, wild air, and something dangerously addictive.
They were not in a bed.
