The small bathroom felt even smaller as tension thickened the air between us. Seraphine sat wrapped in the thin blue sheet, her dark wavy hair damp and clinging to her bare shoulders, silver eyes defiant despite the terror I could still taste on the air from her rapid shift. Her petite frame trembled slightly, not from cold but from the effort of forcing that agonizing change. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, torn between the urge to dominate and the strange pull to protect.
“You mean to tell me you’ve avoided every single pack run since you were sixteen?” I demanded, arms crossed over my chest as I leaned against the wall.
“Yes. I have.”
“You’re what? Twenty-two?”
Her eyes narrowed, clearly offended. “Twenty-four.”
“Eight years?” I stepped closer, the cramped space making he
