ARES’ POV

I sat stiffly in my chair, fingers drumming against the dark mahogany of the long council table. My gaze flickered to the elder wolves seated before me. Each one drowning in aged wisdom, gray hair, and endless debates. They spoke about the upcoming Annual Ball with such ceremonial reverence, their words dry and rehearsed like scripture.

I wasn’t listening. Not really.

My mind was elsewhere—on soft gray eyes, on the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept this morning ...