The storm hit Crescent Pack territory with the violence of a scorned god. Lightning fractured the pitch-black sky, and thunder rattled the thick glass of the royal suite's windows.
Inside, the room was a sanctuary of heat and shadows. A massive fire roared in the stone hearth, casting a warm, flickering glow across the large four-poster bed.
I stood by the window, the soft silk of a borrowed robe slipping off one shoulder. The heavy rain lashed against the glass, blurring the world outside. Yet, even through the storm, my White Wolf could hear the pathetic, sloshing footsteps approaching the pack house lawn.
Kaelen.
He dragged himself through the mud, his once-pristine Alpha clothes soaked and clinging to his battered body. He stopped directly beneath the window of the royal suite. He
