ALARIC
It was difficult listening to him. Even harder seeing him like this.
I did not know where he had gone, what memory or nightmare had dragged him away, but whatever it was, it had reduced a strong, formidable male like Revandrel to this.
The low, guttural growls, the sweat glistening and pouring off his skin, the way he curled into himself at the foot of that massive bed like a wounded animal.
I wanted so badly to go to him, grab his hand and drag him back into the present, but I knew better. Revandrel hated being touched when he was like this. Or more accurately, his instincts hated it.
He went feral at contact. I made that mistake once and almost lost two hands and a leg for it.
The creak of the door opening caught my attention. A female walked in, looking so elegant and com
