Chapter Twenty-Seven

Damp moss and the woodsy scent of oak saturated every part of my being, right down to my very soul, and it even invaded my dreams as I slept deeply.

I wasn’t surprised when I groggily opened my eyes, ascertaining that the sheets encasing the downy bed I was laying on were bathed in the smell. Something told me I was resting in Silas’s bed, that this spacious bedroom belonged to him.

Rolling over, I went to push up with my right arm to get a better look at my surroundings, glimpsing the soft glow of a crackling fire against the far wall, but my arm buckled with the stress, a twinge spiraling out as I fell face first into the pillow, as a result.

A massive midnight-black head popped up from beside me on the ground, next to the king-sized bed, a look of worry evident in his wolf-like features.

“I’m fine, Silas. I just forgot about my arm.” I explained, wincing at the lingering ache, but he was already shifting shapes, standing naked in front of me before I could finish my sentence.

“