"Oh, I know. That chamber's been a revolving door of visitors. And they're all striking wolves, too. How come I never get that kind of luck?"
They didn't know.
The devoted mate they were gushing about was mine.
I walked to Corvina's door. The scent hit me before I reached the threshold. Honeysuckle and warm vanilla layered over something cloying, something that made my stomach clench. And beneath it, tangled through it like a stain, scorched iron and dry cedar bark. Theron's scent. Woven so deeply into hers that I couldn't separate them.
Sure enough, Theron was lying beside her, asleep. His arm was draped across the bedding. His jaw was slack, his breathing even. He looked peaceful in a way I had never once seen him look beside me.
Corvina had her communicator out, leaning against his chest, capturing image after image. Her lips curved as she angled the screen, adjusting the light.
Theron rolled over and pulled her into his arms, his voice low and groggy. "I thought you said you were tired. Go back to sleep."
"I'm not tired."
She looked up at him, then undid the laces of her sleeping gown and climbed on top of him.
"I want you. Give it to me."
His throat worked as his eyes traced her body.