Kyra's POV
I was lying on the bed with Kieran beside me, his strong arms wrapped possessively around me, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the curve of my waist. Under the thick blanket, I was only wearing my panties and Kieran's shirt—the faint scent of cedar and musk from his wolf clinging to the fabric, a constant reminder of his dominance. We had been awake for five minutes, but I had no desire to move. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear—it was intoxicating, a comfort I rarely allowed myself to indulge in. Besides, I was sure Dad was still asleep. The house was quiet, the early morning light barely filtering through the curtains.
Sylvia, my wolf, stirred lazily in my mind, her voice a soft hum. "You're getting too comfortable, Kyra. Fath
