The impact of the moonlight tendril throws me backward as if lightning has struck my chest. My spine hits the ground. Dust rises in a thick cloud around me. My ears ring. My lungs fight for breath.
My wolf whimpers inside me. Not from pain. From recognition.
The moonlight burns, yes, but not in a way that harms. It burns like contact with something familiar. Something important. Something he should bow to, yet fight for. My wolf presses forward inside my chest so violently that I grit my teeth trying to contain him.
Her power surrounds me.
It coils around my ribs. It slips along my arms. It circles my neck with a heat that is neither kind nor cruel. It is testing me.
Not killing. Not breaking. Testing.
My wolf stretches toward it like a starving creature reaching for warmth. He knows
