CIARA
The snow on the ridge was too deep. The trucks couldn't make the pass, and the storm had just locked Nilah right back inside the perimeter gates with us. She wasn't leaving.
The bedroom doors flew open with a loud bang. Hayes strode into the suite, his leather boots tracking wet, gray slush across the dark wood. He had thrown his uniform jacket somewhere downstairs.
He was down to his dark trousers and a tight black undershirt, his skin radiating that hot, suffocating wolf heat that usually made my chest tight. Right now, it just made me feel sick. The gold in his eyes was bright, swirling with pure, jagged frustration.
"The passes are blocked," he said, his voice a rough growl that vibrated through the high ceiling. He didn't look at the bed. He looked straight at the dark corn
