Carla stiffened, jealousy flashing across her face. Lyra only smirked knowingly, as though she had expected this. Elias froze mid-scrub, rag dripping red water onto the stone.
Kael’s thumb brushed along Crimora’s jaw, slow, deliberate. The room’s air thickened instantly.
"You need me," he said. His voice was low, calm, but carried something heavier—undeniable.
Her lips parted, trembling, her breath hot against his. She wanted to deny it, but the black crawling across her throat betrayed her.
The werewolf snarled louder, chains rattling as she leaned forward, golden eyes burning with something more than hate now—something primal, furious, envious.
Kael ignored her. His hand slid down from Crimora’s jaw to her throat, pressing lightly against the skin that burned faintly under his touch
