SCARLETT
The first thing I felt was earth.
Cool, damp, heavy. The scent of soil and pine filled my lungs before my eyes even opened. My fingers curled into moss, soft as velvet, grounding me in a place that pulsed with wild, primal energy.
When I forced my eyes open, the world above me glowed in muted amber. Not the sky, not the moon but stone ceilings painted with strange runes, lit by torches that burned without flame.
I pushed myself up, groaning. Every muscle in my body ached, my skin still humming from the moon’s mark.
“Easy, little wolf.”
The voice came from the shadows. Smooth. Low. Undeniably male.
Rowan.
He stepped into the amber light, towering, shirtless, his body carved from stone and shadow. His golden eyes gleamed, not with cruelty like Lucien’s, not with wildness li
