Elara POV:
We return to the packhouse quietly, our wolves settled within us. The halls are warm with familiar scents and low light, evening lamps casting soft shadows along stone and wood that have sheltered generations of us without judgment.
There’s no urgency between us now. No lingering heat chasing the edge of thought, no restless tension tugging at the bond between us, only contentment.
Caelan’s hand brushes mine as we walk in quiet reassurance. The bond pulses between us in a slow, steady rhythm, a bit like a heartbeat that has finally settled after too long spent racing.
The return to the room is welcome, our space, calms and untouched by the noise of the wider world. We change without ceremony, removing boots, folding our clothes. The kind of domestic ease that still feels new
