The night had been cruel, but Draka endured.
His body still hummed from the heat that had gripped him hours ago, from the primal call of the full moon. But he hadn’t given in. He hadn’t touched anyone. Not even Aria, though she lay soft and fragile in his arms, his mate, his peace.
Now morning crept in, golden light slipping through the cracks of the heavy curtains. Draka shifted slowly, untangling himself from the human curled against him. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. He brushed a kiss to her shoulder, breathed in her scent — sweet, calming and then rose from the bed.
His bare feet padded across the stone floor, and he entered the washroom, splashing cold water on his face to quiet the beast still restless inside him. He caught his own eyes in the mirror. They were darker than
