Chapter 8
Trista's POV
"Calm?" I repeated the word in my head.
"Am I not calm enough?"
Inside my consciousness, my wolf lifted its head and let out a soft, mournful whimper.
I had never been so calm in my life—calm enough to hear the sound of twenty-five years of devotion drying up and shattering into dust.
Cassian went to clean up the bathroom. The sound of running water and the clink of glass drifted through the cracked door.
A few minutes later, he came back upstairs with a steaming cup of healing tonic and set it on the nightstand.
"Sit up and drink this," he said, pulling me upright so I was leaning against his chest. "I'm going to overlook the fact that you faked a fainting spell just to tattle to my mother."
My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. "Cassian.
