DROGO
Last night had been stuck in my head like glue, boiling my blood.
After finding out Isolde was not in the room, I sought to find her, but I didn't make it halfway as my wolf instinct became too strong to suppress. Too hungry, I lost all sense of control.
All that had followed was the crack of my body shifting and rut blinding my senses.
Waking up, all I remembered was a blurry image of a woman writhing beneath me. The scent was confusing; the sensation and aftermath satisfaction were not the kind I recognized.
Camilla was gone. Strange, I did not remember her leaving. She'd never done that; I can't reach her, and I don't bother.
I am too occupied with that scent, which clung to me more than hers.
I had been restless since I got back. I know who owns that scent, and as I ask
