When Selene opened her eyes and met the deep dark eyes she could never forget, she thought she was dreaming.
It was a reasonable assumption. These same eyes, this same face, this same man, often visited her dreams. Sometimes he called her name; other times, he just stared, his presence filling the space around her until she woke up breathless. In her most recent dream, she had seen a wolf with those very same eyes, and she had known, with a certainty that chilled her, that it was his wolf.
So now, feeling drained and heavy-limbed from the aftermath of the medicine, she simply lay there and looked at him without a word. Her eyes traced the familiar, perfectly drawn lines of his face, the strong, straight line of his jaw that was firmly set, as usual. He looked serious, a little cold, and somehow not as hard to read as usual.
Selene guessed it was because his brows were furrowed as she noticed and there was an undeniable flash of unreadable emotions in her eyes.
