Jenna followed him down the hushed corridor, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. His room was in the east wing—distant from the dorms, tucked behind an old stone arch that felt forbidden. The air around him was magnetic, and though her instincts screamed caution, her wolf purred with anticipation.
She should’ve said no.
But she didn’t.
He pushed the door open. “Ladies first,” he said, his voice deep and smooth like smoke curling from a flame.
Jenna hesitated, then stepped in.
The room swallowed her. It had midnight-blue walls, bookshelves lined with rare tomes, and a bed too big for one person, draped in dark satin sheets. The fire crackling in the hearth filled the space with a low amber glow, casting soft shadows. It smelled of cedarwood and him.
She turned to him. “This
