The door to Silas's room clicked shut, and with it, the rest of the world vanished.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the ragged sound of our breathing. My wolf was practically screaming inside my skull, scratching at the back of my mind to get to the giant who was now lying beside me. The scent of him—ozone, rich earth, and dark, dangerous dominance—was a physical drug, making my blood boil and my skin prickle with an intolerable need.
"Turn over, Elara," Silas commanded, his voice a low, rough rumble.
I looked at him, my vision blurred with tears of frustration and heat. His eyes were almost entirely black, his pupils dilated until the iris was just a thin, jagged ring of stormy blue. His jaw was locked tight, his chest heaving with a violent effort at self-control.
