By the time Lucian and Talia finally left their quarters, the morning sun had risen high enough to warm the stone corridors. She smoothed her hair, cheeks still tinged pink, though nothing could erase the glow that clung to her. Lucian walked by her side, broad shoulders squared, blue eyes sharp, but the faint curve at his mouth betrayed the wolf’s smug satisfaction.
The guards posted at the chamber doors stiffened as they approached, glancing between the two of them. Whispers rippled down the hall, not loud enough to be called disrespectful, but impossible to miss.
Talia caught a snatch of it—late, together. Savage’s mark is already written on her.
Heat surged in her face, but Lucian only pressed a hand to her lower back, steering her forward with the steady dominance of a wolf who fea
