Sera's POV
He laid me on the bed like I was made of moonlight and miracles.
The furs were soft beneath my back, the air thick with his scent—cedar and smoke and something darker, something that made my wolf whine with need. Draven knelt over me, golden eyes burning down at me, his chest heaving like he'd run a thousand miles.
"You're shaking," he observed.
"So are you."
His lips curved. "Three centuries, little wolf. I'm allowed to shake."
I reached up and touched his face—really touched him, for the first time without fear or fight. His jaw was rough with stubble, his skin hot beneath my fingers. He turned into my touch like a starving man finding food.
"Sera." My name on his lips was a prayer. "If you want me to stop—"
"I don't."
"I need to hear you say it. Need to know this is
