Damian had sensed it the moment Lena stiffened the shift in her scent, the tremor beneath her composure. Her fingers curled on the table, knuckles pale, as if holding herself together by sheer will. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke again, frustration sparking at the edges:
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but I truly don’t understand how… any of this works long-term.”
She gestured vaguely toward him, toward the hallway where Silas had disappeared, toward the remnants of last night’s intensity that still echoed in the air.
Damian’s wolf bristled not at her, never at her but at her fear. He stood in one fluid motion, rounded the table, and offered his hand.
“Come here,” he said softly.
She hesitated, then slipped her hand into his. He pulled her gently onto his lap on the long sofa, h
