Victoria
There was something reverential in the way he slowly removed my clothing—the torn blouse first, his eyes darkening at the sight of dried blood where glass shards had grazed my shoulder. A growl rumbled in his chest as he bent to kiss the small wound, his tongue darting out to taste my skin in an instinctively wolfish gesture.
"These scratches should have healed already," he noted, his brows furrowing with concern.
"My wolf side is still developing," I reminded him, shivering as his fingers traced patterns along my collarbone. "I don't heal as quickly as you do."
The reminder of my mixed heritage—once a source of shame—now seemed to k****e something protective in him. "We'll need to be more careful until your transformation is complete," he murmured, pressing gentle k
