Chapter 44

The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting a silver glow through the tent. The night air was crisp, cold enough to bite at exposed skin, but the warmth beside him was unmistakable. It was her—a presence he could feel even with his eyes closed, even without reaching out.

Aros stirred, his body aching, but the soreness in his muscles was nothing compared to the pulsating sensation pressing against his chest. He had made a mistake. A terrible, irreversible mistake.

Seraphina lay beside him, her body relaxed in sleep, the fur quilt barely covering her bare back. Strands of dark red hair spilled over her shoulder, loose waves catching the soft light, glinting like embers in the dark. He had never looked at a woman like this before—not with fascination, not with hesitation, not with this terrible, suffocating want.

She was undoing him.