Tristan’s POV My skin was crawling. Every muscle in my body felt like it was being pulled tight by a violin string ready to snap. I’d been holed up in this human town for three days, trying to sweat out a rut that felt more like a death sentence. The suppressant pills were useless. My wolf was a rabid beast inside my skull, screaming for a mate, for blood, for anything to quiet the fire in my veins. I sat at the far end of the bar, my hood pulled low. The smell of cheap beer and grease usually kept my senses dull, but then the door opened. A scent hit me. It wasn't just good. It was a biological wrecking ball. Jasmine, rain, and the unmistakable, heartbreaking scent of a female wolf in distress. I turned my head slowly. She was small, drenched in some kind of sticky liquid, and her eyes were so swollen from crying she could barely see. She looked like she’d been through a war. Mine, my wolf hissed, the word vibrating in my marrow. No, I told him, gripping the edge of the bar unt
Última actualización : 2026-02-19 Leer más