[Luca P.O.V.]
The wind howled low across the northern ridge, sharp and biting like a warning.
Frost clung to the stone ramparts of the Ice Howlers' stronghold, threading over the black iron gates like the fingers of a corpse. I trudged through the entrance with snow crunching underfoot, my jaw tight, muscles stiff from the long run home. My body still bore the ache of our earlier encounter, her moans still echoed in my ears. I could see the way I left her body, bound and waiting for me. Rhea. Seer. Witch. Lover.
But not mine. Not really.
Not in the way that mattered.
And yet she lingered under my skin, soft and treacherous.
The guards flanking the inner sanctum didn’t speak as I passed. Their eyes followed me, but they didn’t meet mine. They could sense the tension radiating off me l
