Chapter 8: Red and Smoke
Varen
I dragged the towel through my damp waves, slow and rhythmic, like if I moved any faster, I’d lose control of the storm in my chest. Cold air kissed my bare skin as I stood outside my room, trying to breathe, to focus, to not think about the girl down the hall.
Josie.
My wolf was pacing, claws raking the inside of my ribcage, snarling for me to go to her. I clenched my jaw, ignoring it. I wasn’t going to her because I missed her. Or because every inch of me vibrated with the urge to see her face.
No.
I was just making sure she was okay.
That was it.
That’s what I told myself, anyway.
I turned toward the east wing, my feet moving on their own. The scent hit me before anything else—hers. Warm, soft, heartbreakingly familiar. But something was off. The air was heavier, bitter.
I rounded the corner, and that’s when I saw him.
Thorne.