(DYLAN'S POV)
FLASHBACK—Continuation
Roland and I lay tangled in the wreckage of the bed, both of us breathing hard, the sheets twisted around our legs like they'd been caught in a storm. Pale moonlight slipped through the curtains, washing silver across the room and illuminating every trace of the chaos we'd made together.
My back stung where his claws had raked shallow lines—nothing that wouldn't heal in minutes, but the burn lingered like a brand. Roland sat against the headboard opposite me, silver hair wild, a thin streak of blood already drying along his collarbone where my own fangs had grazed too close. His icy blue eyes were wide, the demon-gold flicker gone, replaced by something raw and shaken I'd never seen on his face before.
Neither of us moved to touch the other. The bond between us—once a warm, humming promise—felt frayed at the edges, like a live wire still sparking.
I swallowed hard, throat raw from the growls that had torn out of me. "We almost…"
