You awake in your bedroom still engulfed in darkness, soft rays of moonlight glistening across the silken bedsheets. Your mate's breath tickles over your neck, his warmth wrapping around you like a second skin, and his muscled arms hold you tightly against his bare chest. His bare everything. Rowan breathes steadily, the rise and fall of his chest slow and deep. With a careful turn of your head, you catch sight of his face—softer in sleep, the fierce lines smoothed, silver hair tousled across the pillow. It's clear he's still asleep. Gently, you try to slide from beneath the heavy weight of his arm draped over your waist. You can still feel the throb and ache of him in your core. Blushing, you ease his arm off your bare body, craving a breath of cool air, maybe a long bath. You’d heard stories about the effects of the mate bond—the heightened senses, the insatiable pull, especially in those first days, weeks, and months. But this—last night, you hadn't expected that. Hadn’t anticipated it could be so consuming. You're caught between the desperate need for a moment’s reprieve… and the slow, dangerous curl of wanting more.