Roxxane's POV
Sleep doesn't come easy that night.
I roll over again, staring at the dim light from the window crawling across the ceiling. I've been trying to convince myself for hours that what happened in the training ground meant nothing.
That Canan didn't say what I thought I heard. That it was just the exhaustion messing with my head.
Mates.
The word keeps replaying in my mind like a broken record.
I groan and shove the pillow over my face. "Get out of my head, Canan."
Why am I even thinking about him?
But it's useless. His scent still lingers, that earthy, smoky, forest scent that somehow feels so familiar. I try to drown it out by putting on my playlist, scrolling aimlessly through my phone. One song, then another. But even music can't quiet the strange warmth pulsing
