ELARA
The morning air held a crisp edge, laced with the scent of pine and damp earth. As I stepped outside, a soft breeze lifted the edge of my cloak and teased the ends of my hair. I welcomed the cold. It made me feel awake, present, real.
Silverpeak was shifting. Slowly, quietly, but I felt it even with Draven. My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the night he came to my room. I hadn't seen him since.
It was as if that moment of unexpected tenderness had never hap-pened. But I remembered. The careful way he held my hand, the way his brow furrowed when he looked at my wounds, like they were more than skin deep.
It was strange how one small act could echo for days. A part of me had waited for it to happen again. For him to come back. And when he didn't, I told myself I didn't care. But I did. I wanted to see him again. Not the Alpha but the man who had fed me soup with his own hands. The man I wasn't sure I'd imagined. I shook my head and focused on the glances that came my way.
