The Iron Frost broke just before dawn.
The howling wind that had battered the Nightfall packhouse for twenty-four hours finally died down, leaving behind a profound, heavy silence. Pale, crystalline sunlight filtered through the frost-covered windows of the Alpha’s suite, casting a soft glow over the massive bed.
Rowan was already awake.
The terrifying blue pallor of the previous day was completely gone. His werewolf healing, supercharged by the golden magic of Aria’s true mate mark, had repaired the tissue damage in his lungs and restored his core temperature. He was whole again.
But he wasn't looking at the sunlight. He was looking at Aria.
She was asleep, curled securely against his side, her head resting on his chest. Her breathing was deep and even. Rowan gently reached out, his
