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white wolf awoke, she sat up, a hand clutching
the cloak that smelled of pine and snow. His
cloak, his scent woven through the fibers.
She rose to her feet, legs sturdier than
they’d been. A thought had the bubble of
flame expanding as she crossed the few feet
toward the sleeping prince.
She peered down at his face, handsome and
yet unyielding.
His eyes opened, meeting hers as if he’d
known where to find her even in sleep.
An unspoken question arose in those green
eyes. Aelin?
She ignored the silent inquiry, unable to
bear opening that silent channel between them
again, and surveyed the powerful lines of his
body, the sheer size of him. A gentle wind
kissed with ice and lightning brushed against
her wall of flame, an echo of his silent
inquiry.