Zielle
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I find Leah in the library.
"What is it this time?" she asks, the moment her brown eyes find me.
I don't answer. I just walk straight to her and throw myself into her arms. Her warmth swallows me whole, and for a second I let myself drown in it.
I press my face into her neck and breathe in her lotus scent. Sweet, soft, grounding. It fills the cracks inside me, calms the storm in my chest.
"Why does he have to talk so much?" I murmur, muffled against her skin.
"Must be because he's mad," she chuckles, her voice soft, like she doesn't want to wake something fragile inside me.
"Yes! He was so mad he wouldn't shut his mouth." I pull back to look at her pretty face, the face I've leaned on a thousand times. "But the alphas I know—when they're mad, they spit insults, they lunge at the bars, they try to claw my face off or bite at my throat. He doesn't. He argues. He… reasons."
