Alexander stirred. His body ached, but it no longer felt feverish and his wolf was seemingly in a stupor. He wasn’t sure what day it was, but hunger gnawed at him and his throat was parched. How long had it been since he ate or drank?
How long had he thought about anything except his mate?
His foggy memories were slowly piecing themselves together. It remained largely a blur of intoxicating smell, lust and heat. There was little else and he grew concerned. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her.
He shifted and Erin moaned beside him. Alexander nuzzled her, gently caressing her, “Erin, pomme, are you all right? How do you feel?”
“…Sore. Tired.”
“I’m sorry, amour,” he sighed, picking up the scent of blood.
He had tried to prepare her the best he could, but there hadn’t been enough time. Once he
