The firelight flickered across the stone walls of the Bloodstone packhouse, warming the room with its soft glow. Outside, the forest lay blanketed in silver snow, silent and still, the chill of late winter pressing against the windows. Inside, the air was charged with a different heat entirely.
Crystal leaned into Dustin, their bodies pressed close, the tension of the past weeks — rogue attacks, patrol preparations, pack responsibilities — coiling tight inside them like a spring finally released. Bree stirred beneath her skin, muscles flexing, white fur shimmering faintly, a reminder of the wolf’s immense presence and power.
Dustin’s hands moved along her waist, fingers tracing every curve, pulling her impossibly close. His scent, rich and protective, filled her senses, igniting a deep,
