CIARAN
I knew that she was listening last night.
It wasn’t because of the light shuffling of her feet or the slight hitch of her breath behind the council chamber door which others might not have paid attention to.
No, it was her scent. Thick, sweet, and sharp on my tongue.
My wolf had carved it to memory from the very first time I saw her and held her in my arms, and now I could pick it out even in a storm, even through thick stone walls.
She thought she could hide herself from me, but her own scent gave her away.
And now, as I stood there watching her fiddle with the strap of her satchel, her hands trembling like she couldn’t control herself, I couldn't help but wonder how much of what I said she'd heard.
I know that I'd said enough to stir the waves within her, enough to dam
