Nina paced the hall outside Rodrigo’s chambers in her nightie, her flannel over her shoulders, her thumb in between her teeth.

She reached the end of the hall way and turned absentmindedly, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips.

With everything that had happened the previous night, he wouldn’t remember the kiss. Right?

Especially with how cold he’d been that morning.

Nina stopped, shutting her eyes briefly and then she continued. She couldn’t risk being away from him now, no matter what, she had to keep sleeping in his room.

Her feet stopped in front of his door. With what happened that morning, she didn’t know how long she had before something went wrong.

She knew how magic worked. There were always consequences. She had been brought back with a reincarnation spell — something had to give eventually. She lifted her hands slowly and watched them. Then she closed them into fists, her nails pressing into her palms.

She needed answers. She needed to find a witch or anyone who knew about a reincarnation spell.

Tomorrow, she would find a way out of the pack’s house. But tonight—

Her eyes lifted to the grain of the wood of the double doors, and she knocked on it.

There was no reply from the other side. Nina waited for a moment, and then she pushed the door open.

Her eyes lifted to the room and her legs nearly went from under her.

Rodrigo was on the floor, back against the foot of the bed, coat thrown somewhere to the side, shirt hanging open to his torso like he’d torn at it in desperation. His head was tipped back against the mattress, chest heaving, a visible sheen of sweat across his skin. His face was pale — but the flush was already climbing his neck, his jaw, the tips of his ears.

His eyes were closed and his hands were gripping the bed frame behind him like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.

She crossed the room in a flash and crouched beside him.

"Alpha!" she called,

His eyes opened.

She almost screamed. The grey was nearly gone — swallowed almost entirely by white, his pupils blown so wide there was barely a ring of color left. They found her face and something in them shifted immediately. Sharpened. Like a hunger that had just been shown what it wanted.

"Are you okay?" Her hands found his face before she thought better of it. "What is wrong?"

His face was warm, hot even. He was boiling.

He didn’t answer. His breathing was coming in ragged pulls, his chest rising and falling too fast, a low sound working in his throat that he seemed to be fighting to keep down. He tried to move — to do what, she didn’t know — and his body refused him. She watched him dropped back against the bed with a grunt, one hand leaving the frame to drag roughly through his hair.

"What is happening?" She was already turning. "Let me call the—"

His hand caught her wrist and yanked her back.

Not gently.

"Don’t." The word came out guttural, barely shaped. His grip on her wrist didn’t loosen as his eyes lifted to her, his breathing louder now, "Don’t move."

Her heart stuttered.

She sank back down before she consciously decided to, caught by the way his eyes held hers — intense, almost desperate, as though her leaving would make it worse.

Sweat gathered at his temple. A bead slid slowly down toward his jaw.

Only then did his gaze shift.

It dropped.

Nina felt the change before she understood it, a subtle tightening in the air between them that made her suddenly aware of her own body — of how she was crouched, how her nightie had slipped low without her noticing.

His eyes settled on her chest.

Stayed there.

She followed his gaze and her breath hitched. The fabric barely covered her bosoms in that position, the neckline fallen open.

Heat rushed to her face. She grabbed at the cloth, trying to pull it higher, but the motion only shifted it further, soft skin spilling free.

She froze.

He made a sound.

Low. Hoarse. Uncontrolled.

The look in his eyes changed completely — darker, focused, stripped of the restraint she had only ever known him for. His breathing deepened, each inhale heavier than the last, as if simply looking at her required effort.

The room felt suddenly airless.

"I’ll go get help," she managed, though her voice sounded distant even to her own ears.

His grip tightened immediately.

He didn’t let her move.

Her words faded as she watched his gaze lift slowly from her chest to her mouth.

He stared at her lips with an intensity that made her pulse jump wildly beneath her skin.

His pupils widened.

His breathing grew rougher.

Understanding crept in, slow and disbelieving.

Was he—

Her eyes swept over him again. The heat. The tension in his body. The way he looked at her like restraint had become impossible.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Every sensible instinct told her to stand up. To leave before this crossed a line neither of them could uncross.

She didn’t move.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, awareness spreading through her body like warmth sinking into cold limbs.

His hand lifted toward her face.

She felt herself tremble before he even touched her.

His thumb slid beneath her chin, tilting her head upward, the movement slow but lacking hesitation. His touch lingered at her lower lip, tracing its curve as though memorizing the shape of it.

"God... you’re beautiful," he murmured huskily.

The words struck somewhere deep inside her, sending heat rushing through her veins.

Her heart pounded so loudly she wondered if he could feel it through the hand he still held. She couldn’t look away from him — from the raw want written openly across his face, from the way his gaze moved over her like a moth in a flame.

His gaze fixed on her mouth, and his adam’s apple moved once, and then again.

Her skin flushed hot, then chilled, then burned again.

Nina lowered her gaze instinctively—

—and immediately regretted it.

Her eyes fell to his lips, slightly parted, flushed from heavy breathing. She noticed the faint hitch every time their breaths aligned, the way the space between them seemed to shrink without either of them moving.

"I want to do things," he growled.

Heat pooled low in her stomach as her legs grew weak, her mouth dried, her whole body almost shaking.

His arm slid around her waist and pulled her to him. Nina’s hands landed against his chest to steady herself, warmth and solid muscle beneath her palms making her inhale sharply.

Their faces hovered inches apart.

She tried to think.

Tried to remember why this was a terrible idea. Why she should stand, leave, restore distance before desire swallowed reason whole.

Nothing came.

Her thoughts scattered completely, replaced by sensation — heat, breath, closeness, the steady pull drawing her toward him.

His hands moved along her back, lifting her nightie higher as though unaware of modesty or consequence. Cool air brushed her thighs.

Rodrigo groaned when his eyes fell there, the sound vibrating through her.

And something inside him snapped. His hand fisted suddenly in her hair, firm, claiming, and he pulled her down—

crashing his mouth against hers.