Elise's body had begun to burn up, hotter than the warmth the flame offered. Her body still internally shivered from the cold, and Rygan didn’t expect that heavy scent that would wash over him. That familiar scent set his wolf on a feral edge instantly.
Her heat, Elise, was in heat. He watched as her legs twisted, her grunts and whimpers louder as she searched for their pleasuring friction and cried when she couldn’t reach it. Elise whimpered in pain as her body sparked forward from the pain.
She hadn’t had heat as intense as this in three years; she wondered what had triggered it or who.
She was far from gone. Not until her wolf had smelled that mint and cedar wood scent she’d missed for years, “El?” Rygan calls her name but is replied to with another whimper.
But then, an eerie silen
