The morning broke silver.Rain washed the edges of the forest clean, tapping against the window of Draven’s room with a rhythm that felt more like absolution than storm.Lillieth woke to the sound and the scent—fresh pine, wet earth, his warmth near her shoulder. She felt lighter, steadier. Still sore, but strong enough to breathe without flinching.Her fingers brushed at the tangle of her hair and caught halfway down. The braid had frayed days ago; underneath, it was heavy with sweat, blood, and smoke. The smell of the cellar still haunted it.“I need a shower,” she whispered, voice raw but certain.Draven, sitting in the chair by the bed, lifted his head. His wolf surged instantly, protective, worried, proud. “You think you can stand that long?”“I can try.”He hesitated. “You shouldn’t—”“Please,” she said softly. “I want the dirt gone.”That quiet plea undid him. He rose, towering and silent, and crossed to her side. “Then we do it slow.”---The ShowerSteam filled the bathroom i
Last Updated : 2025-10-31 Read more