MARTHA POV
I woke up alone.
Which should have been a good thing. Right?
His bed was huge, with clean sheets that smelled like laundry, wood, and a little bit like him. Morning light slipped through pale curtains and painted the room in soft, almost golden lines. For one second, I just took it all in. The high ceiling, the dark wooden beams, the too-full silence around me, and the faint scent of wisteria outside the window.
Wisteria.
The packhouse.
Caelin’s home.
The werewolf castle, even if he insisted on ruining it by calling it a packhouse, as if terminology could change the fact that it looked like something out of a gothic novel written by a woman with excellent taste and many s****l frustrations.
I was in his house.
In his world.
In his bedroom.For my choice.
A room I had
