ALARIC

I stood by the door and noticed something was wrong.

Desdemona did not look at me when I entered the room.

She sat by the tall window, the gray morning light spilling across her pale face, her hands folded neatly in her lap as if she had been placed there by someone else. No chains. No guards. No fear trembling through her body.

Her gaze stared into the empty space, looking at everything else except for me. As if she is deliberately ignoring my present.

That unsettled me more than her screams ever had.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless, alert. The bond between us, once sharp and...