Jason's POV
As I watched Lysa nestle comfortably against my arms, my chest tightened.
That was the problem. That had always been the problem. Every time she was close, every rational argument I'd constructed against this—against her—dissolved like morning frost under direct sunlight.
My wolf knew what my mind kept refusing to accept, and right now, with her small frame nestled against my chest and her blue eyes half-closed with fever, Crimson was having a field day.
"She called for us. Her body called for us. Even you can't pretend you didn't feel that," he growled.
I couldn't. Goddess help me, I couldn't pretend at all.
I looked down at Lysa, at the fever-flush on her cheeks and the way her blue eyes had gone glassy and soft, and felt something in my chest constrict pa
