Trista's POVMorning, in the treatment room, I was deep into a neural-soothing session with Isaiah.The spacious room was filled with the scent of a herbal blend I'd custom-mixed, and the low-frequency hum of the singing bowls was doing its job—calming those high-strung werewolf nerves.Isaiah had showered and changed into some clean, oversized lounge gear.As I prepped the active medium for his therapy, I played it casual. "Back when you bought your place, were there any other units left in our wing?"Isaiah arched an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "The 18th floor was wide open."I nodded, my plan finally coming together. "Keep up the progress with the treatment, and I'll have you over for dinner this weekend."Come Saturday, Paisley and I hit the supermarket and hauled back a massive spread of fresh groceries.Cassian, dressed in dark loungewear, was leaning against the kitchen doorframe. He didn't say a word, but those deep eyes of his were tracking my every move."Go put on
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