~Aria~
The forest holds its breath around us, moonlight spilling like silver blood over the ground. His hand is still on my wrist, his body caging mine against the tree, the air between us thick with heat and fury. I can feel the pulse in his grip, not just strength but something unsteady, as if he’s holding onto more than flesh.
My wolf snarls, restless. She hates the leash, hates his control—but gods, she leans into his nearness, hungry for it. I want to scream, to rake my nails down his face, to bite until he bleeds the way he’s bled me of choice. But the memory of his kiss lingers, brutal and salt-bitten with desperation. That’s what unravels me—not the force, but the crack in it. The fear.
He steps back only far enough to yank me forward, dragging me through the night. His strength
