_ A Witch in the Pack

I pushed myself up, but as I turned to leave, my gaze drifted back to María José. 

Her face was bland and peaceful. Her fingers curled around the sheets, clutching the fabric as though she was holding onto something in a dream. 

I felt that pull again. That insatiable pull. 

I wanted to stay. 

I wanted to crawl into bed beside her, to bury my face in her hair, to feel her warmth against me again. 

Hugo growled inside me, drunk on her scent, howling for more. I shoved him back, but my hands still trembled. I wanted. Needed. And fuck, I wasn't supposed to

Stop it, cabrón. 

I shook my head violently, forcing myself to move. I had already fucked up enough for one night. 

She needed rest. I needed to never speak of this again. 

Sneaking out was easy enough. I had done it plenty of times in my reckless youth—though never from a woman's bed after nearly draining her.