Olivia's POV
I had bathed early, needing the quiet. The castle always felt too big, too echoing with centuries of history and hidden eyes, but tonight, I wanted only my bed and the comfort of clean sheets.
I'd slipped into a thin ivory nightdress, my hair still damp against my neck. I tried to read, to distract myself, but I was restless. The bond simmered under my skin like a secret flame.
Outside, a wolf howled—a long, mournful cry that sent a shiver across my bare arms.
And then the door opened.
I looked up, my heart tripping over itself when I saw Tristan step inside. His hair was windswept, his cloak draped over one arm. He was all dark lines and predatory grace, and his eyes…
God, those eyes. They glowed faintly crimson as they settled on me in the lamplight.
"You're awake," he murmured, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.
I swallowed. "I couldn't sleep."
