SERAPHINA
I wake to the feeling of being watched.
The mate bond awareness prickles at my consciousness—I can sense him in the room even before I open my eyes. Last night we finally stopped fighting what our wolves demanded. Not because we wanted each other, but because eight days of resisting the pull was destroying us both.
Luna stirs weakly in my mind, sated but not content. Getting what she wanted, our mate's claiming, hasn't changed the reality that he despises me, or that I'm still his prisoner.
My hand flies to my throat where his mark sits—fresh and tender. The claiming was desperate, necessary, like scratching an itch that had become unbearable. Nothing more.
The soreness between my thighs reminds me of last night's intensity, but there's no warmth in the memory. We gave our w
