Eight minutes earlier

Silvain woke to emptiness.

Not the cold sheets where Marina should have been that came later. First, there was the wrongness of the bond. A muffled sensation, like hearing through water, feeling through thick gloves. Contentment that wasn't quite his own pulsed through their connection, artificial and cloying.

He reached for Marina through the bond and found only manufactured peace.

His eyes snapped open.

The window stood ajar. Her clothes from the ceremony were gone. And the scent trail leading out was already fading she'd left at least twenty minutes ago, maybe more.

Silvain's wolf snarled with betrayal. She'd promised. Promised to stay close, to not take...