Corin The noise of preparation outside reached our room only as a distant echo. The clash of weapons, the horses breathing hard, and the loud commands felt far away, as if they belonged to another world. Here in the half light, with only the last glow of the fireplace burning, time seemed to stop. Mason stood by the window, shirtless. The tattoos on his back, a dark map of victories and losses, moved as he leaned his forearm against the frame. I could feel the tension coming from him, that raw Alpha energy that always surrounded him before a mission. But there was something else too, a quiet thoughtfulness. “Come here, Corin,” he said softly without turning around. I walked to him. The stone floor was cool under my bare feet, but the heat from his body warmed me as soon as I stood beside him. He turned, and his dark eyes moved slowly over my face, as if he wanted to remember every detail before the battle. “Turn around,” he said in a rough voice. “I want to see the bandage
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