Nevara
I woke to breath on my neck.
Not warmth. Not safety.
Rot. Hunger. Male.
Before I could move, a hand clamped down over my wrists, pinning them to the bed. Weight shifted across my legs—heavy, hard, intentional. I blinked hard into the dark, instincts clawing to the surface as I twisted, kicked—
but there were too many limbs. Too much pressure.
One above me. One beside. One pacing just out of reach.
I froze. Not from fear—
from strategy.
Three rogues. I could smell it now. Musk and sweat and the sour bite of something unwashed and wild. They didn’t belong here. Not just in the cabin. Not in my territory.
But I was pinned.
“You sleep so sweet,” one murmured, pressing his body lower until his knee dug into the space between my thighs. “Didn’t think a pack b***h this soft woul
