Sebastian Thornwood's Point Of View.
I could not stop touching her.
She’s curled against my chest on the wide leather couch, one of my arms locked around her waist, Adrian’s hand resting possessively on her bare thigh where her leg was thrown over both of us. The fire had burned low, but none of us had moved to leave. The scent of s*x and mate and pack was thick in the air, and for the first time in three years I was not fighting the bond. I was drowning in it, willingly.
Emily’s breathing was slow, steady, asleep, and I was wide awake, staring at the ceiling, remembering the night I swore I would never let myself have this.
Three years ago.
I was barely twenty-two, carrying too much weight and too little hope. The town was crumbling, the borders were bleeding, and every night I ran
