EMBER’S POV

The transformation is fluid, dark fur receding into bronze skin, the wolf compressing into the tall, bloodied, naked figure of a man looking at me with an expression so tender it makes the terror worse because monsters aren’t supposed to look at you like you’re their salvation.

“There you are.” A whisper, soft and reverent. “My little flame.”

He crouches in front of me where I’ve collapsed in the snow, my body shaking with the heat, the cold, the warring instincts of a woman who wants to run and a wolf who wants to surrender.

His hand reaches for my face, fingertips trembling, hovering an inch from my...