Dorian‘s pov.

The walk back from the lake felt like a war in my own damn mind. My body still thrummed with the lingering sensation of Freya, of her skin, her scent, her fucking heat pressing against me. And The Beast—the bastard had taken control, pushed me aside like I was nothing. I should’ve fought harder, but gods help me, she had fucking relaxed in his presence.

Not mine.

Not Dorian’s.

No, the moment she saw the golden eyes, felt him, she melted. The ...