The morning sun peeked through the high windows, thin golden slats cutting across the room and landing on Zevryn's face.
He tightened his arms around the small figure in his embrace, inhaling deeply, the woman's scent was intoxicating, a heady mix of wildflowers and something older, something that tugged at both him and the wolf that lived under his skin.
For a long second he simply held her, letting the warmth and smell anchor him.
"Umm… Lilly…" he muttered, voice hoarse, as his eyes fluttered open and found the delicate woman in his arms. Then, like a blade, recognition and horror collided across his features.
His pupils dilated. He looked around the lavish chamber with a sick, lurching sort of disbelief, his gaze snagging on the scattered clothes on the floor and finally snapping back to the sleeping girl.
She looked exactly, terrifyingly like Liliath, and yet she was not Liliath. She was the girl he had rescued that night.
