Zeraphine’s POV
The warmth of the fire in the corner of the room felt good after the biting cold of the day. My toes ached from the hours spent balancing on that stupid log, but the ache in my chest was worse. Draven’s words kept circling my mind.
You’re not weak.
Why did he say that? Why did it matter to him how strong I was?
“Because you care,” Ata, my wolf, teased, her voice like a smirk in my head.
“I don’t care,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head. “He’s annoying.”
“Oh, yes,” Ata said dryly. “That’s why you replay everything he says in your head like a song.”
Before I could argue, a knock on my door startled me. I sat up quickly, my heart racing.
“Come in,” I said, trying to sound composed.
The door opened, and of course, it was Draven. His tall figure leaned casually agai
