(Kaelen)
I wake up staring at a white ceiling.
Everything in this guest room is white and clean and perfectly still, like the world hasn't completely shifted under my feet. Like last night didn't happen. Like I didn't walk into his study in a borrowed silk robe and end up pinned to his desk with his mouth on my throat.
My wolf hasn't stopped moving since I got back. Just pacing, pacing, pacing, wearing a groove into the floor of my chest.
I press my palms over my eyes. The light is too bright or I'm too exhausted — probably both, since I didn't sleep. Every time I got close, I was back in that study. Feeling the hard edge of the desk under my thighs. Hearing his voice, stripped raw and rough.
Let's make a deal.
A deal. Not a confession. Not a moment. A transaction.
I sit up. The red
