Chapter 62

Lucian

“I want you,” she whispered, her back arching against the cool stone wall. Before she could think twice, he scooped her up in a single, fluid motion and carried her to the bed. In less time than it takes to blink, their clothes lay discarded on the floor.

As she settled on the crisp sheets, she hesitated, wrapping trembling arms around herself.

“Don’t,” he murmured, pinning her wrists gently above her head. “Never hide from me.” His gaze roamed over her pale, slender form—traces of trauma still etched in her posture, but every curve was fervently, breathtakingly alive.

“Lucian, you’re staring.”

“Trying to memorize every inch of you,” he replied, voice husky. “Your body is art.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Art? I used to be strong—now I feel like cooked noodles.”

“If you ever want to run again, I’ll train with you,” he offered, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “Alpha insists we all fight.”

“Ugh, how misogynistic,” s