The waterfall’s roar was a distant drum beneath the tightening silence. Lantern light trembled against leaves; the cushion of moss and blanket were soaked and stained, crimson bleeding into the earth like ink. McKenna’s breaths came shallow and frantic, each one hotter than the last. Her white dress clung to her in dark patches, the fabric turned red where the wet had spread. She was barely coherent—part fever, part pain—eyes bright and frantic as she seized Azeo’s sleeve.
“Do it! Now! Please, I beg of you!” Her voice tore the night. Sweat beaded on her lip; blood slicked her fingers. She could feel herself slipping — thoughts laddered in and out of focus — but the plea had to reach him. Had to.
Azeo stared at her, his jaw a hard line. For a moment the old Alpha in him, the man who had h
