THE CURSE OF LUST
Every brush of his hands, every push and press, set my pulse racing—not just human desire, but something far older, wilder.
My wolf snarled beneath the surface, teeth bared, claws itching to mark him, to claim him, to tear him apart. Julian was no mate—never my mate—and yet the curse throbbed in my blood, twisting pleasure into something sharp, something dangerous. Last time it happened, I had killed the poor human—just a few decades ago—my beast shifting into something beyond my control, raw and merciless. So I forced myself to let it be felt through human skin, to taste it through lungs and veins, rather than let the beast surge forward. And even as I struggled, even as my body screamed wi