Kyra's POV
My claws nearly extended as I dragged Kieran out of my father's room after he brought a doctor in to put my dad to sleep.
My wolf, Sylvia, snarled in my mind. "Something's wrong. He looked ready to rip Kieran's throat out."
"What the hell was that, Kieran?" I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. "Did you see his eyes? That wasn't just anger. He was trying so hard to reach you, as if he'd kill you if he did." My nails dug into his arm. "Tell me why."
Kieran's jaw clenched, his golden eyes flashing with that cold ruthlessness I remembered from before we became mates. The scent of cedar and musk grew stronger around us—his defensive response.
I felt so irritated that he was just looking at me and not giving me answers.
"Kieran!"
"Kyra," he answered calmly.
My forehead immediately creased. "What?"
He clenched his jaw again while his eyes sharpened.
