/-Draven-/

That smell, though.

Seriously, the smell.

It hit the beast—me—like a ton of bricks. All of a sudden, it wasn't about being hungry, or fighting, or blood.

It was about her.

The omega. She was beat up and bleeding. Her blood mixed with her natural scent—honey, wildflowers, with a hint of Zara—and under all that, was that other thing. The thing that drove the beast nuts, like a magnet pointing north.

My wolf's brain, usually a jumble of instincts and curse-fueled ...