Asher's hands trembled as he followed Rayla into her dorm room, the scent of cherry blossoms and impending rain clinging to their clothes. The walk from the park had been silent—too silent—and every step had made his wolf snarl in warning.
Something's wrong.
Rayla moved stiffly, her fingers fumbling with the keys before finally unlocking the door. The moment they crossed the threshold, the familiar vanilla-and-lavender scent of her space should have calmed him. Instead, his muscles coiled tighter.
"You've been quiet since the park," he ventured, watching as she perched on the edge of her bed like a skittish deer.
Rayla's fingers twisted in her grandmother's quilt. "Just tired."
Liar.
Her heartbeat stuttered—a telltale flutter he'd learned to recognize over months of listening to its
