Alexander’s POV
She was burning alive in my arms.
I sat against the headboard of the massive bed, my back rigid, my legs bracketing her small, trembling form. I had stripped off my shirt, needing skin-to-skin contact, needing to let the unnatural heat of her fever bleed into me. But it wasn’t enough.
Her skin was dry and scorching, like parchment left too close to a flame. Every few seconds, a violent shiver would rack her body, her teeth chattering with a sound that grated against my sanity like a rusty file.
FIX HER, Titus roared in my head.
He was pacing the cage of my ribs, slamming his massive body against the bars, frantic and useless. The Wolf understood claws. He understood teeth and blood and the simple violence of a fight. He did not understand this invisible enemy that was
