It was late evening and Alpha Torin was now far asleep in bed, his breathing slow, calm and almost too still for someone who had barely recovered from the violent rupture of his inner beast.
Freya sat beside him, eyes roving across his features. Sleep had softened the harshness of his face, the carved jaw unclenched, the furrow between his brows erased as though peace had returned, even if briefly. His features were worth staring at forever. He was that good-looking. Even in his sleep, he looked impeccable.
But she couldn’t sleep.
Her thoughts were elsewhere, wound tightly around the scroll.
That scroll.
Silently, she slid off the bed and crossed the chamber, her steps light. The scroll lay hidden beneath the lamp where she had tucked it hours ago. She reached for it and unrolled it
