Aria’s Blackwood....
The world tilted. My legs buckled beneath me, every muscle trembling from the unbearable fire that scorched through my veins. The Hunt was chaos—wolves tearing through the forest, howls echoing like thunder—but all I could feel was the ache pulsing low in my belly, the cruel grip of heat.
It was worse than any story I’d ever heard. My skin burned, my throat was dry, and my wolf clawed desperately to break free. My scent—sharp, sweet, intoxicating—was everywhere, thick in the night air. I heard the snarls shift, a dozen heads snapping toward me.
“No… no, not now,” I whispered, stumbling back.
But they smelled me.
The wolves closest froze mid-stride, their eyes glowing with hunger that wasn’t about blood or dominance. It was primal need. Male need. My scent had turn
