Iris
The jacket slips from my shoulders, falling to the carpet with a soft thud. I feel my face heat as Arthur drags his gaze over the tattered remains of my dress, lingering briefly on my exposed breasts, hips, and belly, but I don’t try to cover myself again.
“The scratches don’t look that bad,” he murmurs with surprise, his fingers lightly tracing a mark on my collarbone. His brow furrows as he examines a particularly long scratch down my arm. “They’re healing already, actually. Faster than they should be.”
I glance down at my arm, noticing he’s right. The angry red line from earlier has already dulled to a faint pink. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“Not for a werewolf,” Arthur says, his eyes meeting mine. “Humans don’t heal this quickly, Iris.”
My heart skips a beat as I real
