The storm breaks before dawn.
Thunder rolls across the mountains, shaking the camp. Every gust of wind smells like rain, smoke, and something wilder—her.
Azeo stands outside the command tent, bare-armed, rain running down his skin. He hasn’t slept. Every breath carries her scent, every beat of his heart answers the rhythm of hers.
He tells himself to stay away.
He tells himself to let her rest.
He fails.
Inside, McKenna is awake.
The candlelight flickers gold against her damp hair, the loose shirt slipping from one shoulder. The violet in her eyes glows faintly, like lightning caged behind glass.
“You’re pacing again,” she says softly. “You’ll wear a hole through the earth.”
Azeo stops. His voice is rough. “Can’t stand still when I can feel you calling me.”
Her pulse jumps. “You
