Shadow Mountain i had walked my entire life as a dead man

Transfixed by the Mayfair’s prayerful face, Wake did not answer at first. For a moment, there was only a characteristic tilt of his head and the brandishing of a barely-there smirk that knew too much.

This was worship.

The seraphim to his godhood. There was no question of it now. The summerwolf had not only honored their full moon pact, he had also brought tribute, laid now at the feet of his Maker. Wake bent down to closely sniff the petals, admiring how their lovely scent was but a paltry waft against the exquisite balm of Lestan.

He let that racing pulse go on.

When he lifted his head again, it was to savor the slanting nightshine upon his fated companion. Wake feasted on the otherworldly radiance drawn against Lestan, as moonwashed light reflected off the snow, framing his sublime summer features above sharp lines of shadow.

Very much so, he hummed. You have me at your mercy…

What will you do with me, my Mayfair?

Shall I answer more of your questions? Perhaps treat you to a meal? What will satisfy you, my Mayfair? Another lesson? A story? I would even allow you to gladden me with your touch. His eyes danced with laughter. Tell me your appetite tonight. It was command and request; the loveliest edict. I should like to keep you until morning, so that there will be time to sate you.