Valkhara
Nyra’s cottage should’ve been safe.
She’d reinforced the entire damn perimeter with blood-drawn glyphs, bark-infused shields, and a scent-masking veil strong enough to fool an alpha wolf in heat.
But not my mates.
Not Sevrin and Azric.
I felt them coming before they arrived, two hurricanes of fury crashing toward me like heat-seeking blades.
The wards cracked first. Then shattered like glass under a steel boot.
I barely had time to throw on Nyra’s oversized shirt and grab my dagger before the door exploded inward.
Azric walked through the smoke, violet eyes glowing. Silent. Dangerous.
Sevrin followed, shirtless, every muscle tight with rage, silver blade already in hand.
“I see the wards worked great,” I muttered.
Neither laughed.
Sevrin’s voice was low, murderous. “Yo
