The ceiling above my bed had forty-seven cracks in the plaster.
I knew because I’d been staring at them for the past fifteen minutes, counting and recounting while my mind replayed the disaster in my chambers on an endless loop.
You saw him touch me and now you’re here in my bed, finally willing to—
I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The memory burned behind my eyelids anyway. Zane’s hands on my body. His mouth claiming mine with a desperation that had felt real.
And then I’d ruined it.
The worst part? I’d been right to ask. The timing had been too convenient.
My wolf whined softly in the back of my mind, confused and restless. She didn’t understand why our mate had left, why the bond was stretched taut with tension instead of satisfied and complete.
Neither did I, reall
