It was 3 a.m. The room was dead quiet except for the crackle of the dying fire.
Isabella woke up to the sound of heavy breathing not Damien’s usual deep rhythm, but something rougher, She sat up fast, sheets falling off her naked body.
The candles were almost gone, but the moonlight coming through the tall window was enough.
Damien stood in the middle of the room, back to her. His shoulders hunched. Fur was spreading fast dark, thick, covering his arms, his back, his legs. Claws grew from his fingers. His spine arched as the change took him. He growled low, the sound vibrating through the stone floor.
When he turned, it was the beast again. Towering. Massive with golden eyes glowing in the dark. But those eyes… still his and still looking at her like she was everything.
“The curse,”
