Selene’s POV
The forest stank of wet earth and rot, mist so thick it clung to my skin like a damp shroud, cold and slimy. My bare feet sank into the muck, toes curling against the chill, jeans plastered to my legs, heavy with mud and blood from yesterday’s kill. The letter in my pocket burned against my thigh—golden wolf, blood ties, betrayal, curse—its ink bleeding into my thoughts, eating me alive. Ahead, Lucien prowled, boots squelching, his shirt soaked to his scarred chest, muscles flexing under the thin fabric, ice-blue eyes cutting through the gloom. Last night, his growl had pinned me to the wall—you’re mine, curse or not—his breath hot on my neck, stirring something dark and hungry in me. Now we chased the seer, the one who’d known my mother, who might unravel the howl tearing me apart, the curse sinking its claws deeper every damn day.
The air turned sour, a wet-dog reek hitting me hard—wolves, too close, stalking us. My green eyes flared, chest tightening, every muscle coi
