It sucked the air out of the cabin, leaving only the smell of wet wool, mud, and the heavy, cloying scent of unresolved magic. Every time the vehicle lurched over a rut in the road, my shoulder brushed against Guilermo’s arm.
Every time it happened, we both flinched.
I sat with my arms wrapped around my stomach, staring out the window at the passing blur of dark trees. My lips felt swollen. My skin felt raw, as if the top layer had been sanded off, leaving the nerves exposed to the cold air blasting from the vents.
I felt... used.
Not by him. But by the situation.
Twenty minutes ago, I had been ready to let a wolf consume me. I had straddled him in the dirt, offered him my throat, and begged him to take everything I had. I had abandoned every instinct of self-preservation that Sibal
