Devon POV
The night was hushed, the air heavy with the scent of pine and something older—something wild. I stood barefoot on the terrace of my safe house, a drink in one hand, the other deep in my pocket, fingers curling with tension I refused to show.
My white shirt clung to my skin, open at the chest, letting the night air graze the heat rising inside me. The moon hung low and full above the mountain line, a silver eye watching me. Judging me.
The wolf inside me stirred.
It always did near the full moon, but tonight was different. There was no rage. Just longing. Anticipation. Restlessness. Like my body already knew he was near.
I had texted Eleanor hours ago she’d replied vaguely. Said she had other appointments. Claimed she was running late. But I knew her. She was avoiding me. An
