Noah's POV
It's a strange feeling, really, for your body to still be humming, your legs still shaking and your heart still pounding—only to feel horror begin to spread across your chest like rot.
It's like standing in the sun and watching your own shadow consume you.
The afterglow of sex still clings to my skin. I'm warm, wet, and breathless from release. But the heat is draining. Fast. Finnian, so wild and loud just minutes ago, has gone utterly still.
My thumb brushes the shape again—small, hard, unmistakable—just beneath the skin of Kieran's wrist. I touch the embedded circle, no bigger than a pop button. And when I lift my gaze to meet his, to see confusion flickering in his dark eyes, is when I realize:
That feeling I drowned underneath the horniness, that inkling that something was wrong—it wasn't just paranoia.
Something is wrong.
Before me is Kieran.
A man without his wolf.
"Is this…?" My voice cracks like old glass.
