Adrian Thornwood's Point Of View.
I was losing my f*****g mind.
The war room table was buried under maps, ancient grimoires, and three empty coffee pots. Sebastian stood at the head, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tracing patrol routes with a finger that hadn’t stopped moving in hours. Emily sat cross-legged on the table itself, hair twisted up with a pencil, glowing sigils flickering faintly across her collarbones every time the bond flared.
She had new marks now. Not bite marks (those were coming soon enough). Moon-born sigils. Silver and gold lines that crawled over her skin like living constellations whenever the moon was high.
I hated how beautiful they were. I hated how much I wanted to trace every single one with my tongue.
Sebastian had finally told me the full truth two nights
