Adele's POVCaden finished the last spoonful of soup with visible reluctance, as though surrendering the warmth of it meant admitting the night was real and not some fever dream. I watched closely as he swallowed his medicine afterward, his throat working, his jaw tightening against the bitterness. The Alpha in him hated weakness—hated being tended to—but the wolf beneath his skin was quieter now, sated for the moment."You're settled for the night," I said, forcing calm into my voice as I rose and gathered the tray, setting it carefully on the low table near the couch. "I made extra soup. If you wake up hungry, it's there."I turned to leave."No. Stay."His voice cracked through the room like a low growl, and before I could react, his hand shot out and closed around my wrist.I gasped, shock freezing me in place as I stared at his fingers wrapped possessively around my skin. Even injured, even weakened, his grip was iron—warm, pulsing, possessive. The bond I pretended didn't exist s
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