There was a sharp stillness when Draven and Elaria stepped inside.The dawn was cruel.
Its light slanted through the high windows of Draven’s chamber, gilding the bloodstains on Elaria’s skin, the bruises darkening across her ribs, the bare, intimate way they were still tangled in one another. For a rare moment, the Alpha and his mate had slept without the world clawing at their door.
But the world clawed anyway.
The pounding came at the door just as Draven’s lips brushed her shoulder, his hand curved protectively over her hip. He snarled low in his throat, fangs flashing in the weak morning light.
“Not yet,” he growled, pressing his face against her skin. “Not now.”
The knock came harder, more urgent. A voice followed it—sharp, deferential, but edged with fear.
“My Alpha. The council
