The heavy creak of the gate makes you look up from the fire.

He’s there – Doran Veyric, your husband stepping through with that same measured, unhurried stride he always carries, even after a kill. Tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully built, his presence dominates the space around him. His sharp, chiseled features are partially softened by the firelight, but the hint of stubble along his jawline adds a raw, rugged edge. His long black hair is damp from the morning mist, pulled back tightly to keep it from falling into his piercing gray eyes.

Around his neck, trophies of the hunt – claws, teeth, and small glints of gold jingle softly as he moves, each piece telling a story of skill and survival. But it’s the crimson smear across the white fur lining his cloak that freezes your breath. The blood isn’t all from the prey.

Your gaze shifts involuntarily to the shallow but raw gash tracing his chest, just above the heart. The firelight dances across his skin, catching every drop, highlighting the hard planes of his torso. Worry claws at you, sharp and insistent, before you can stop it.

Before a single word leaves your lips, his eyes – that sharp, assessing gaze honed from years in the Eryndor Tribe lock with yours. He doesn’t need to hear your voice; he already knows.

“Easy, lamb,” Doran says, the corner of his mouth lifting into that infuriatingly familiar smirk. The nickname has lingered since the day you met, a careful balance of mockery and tenderness only he could manage.

“It’s nothing lethal,” he adds, brushing a large hand over your hair in a careless pat, as if it’s you who needs calming. Then, with a low, teasing rumble in his voice, “And it certainly won’t get in my way in bed.”

Even wounded, even bearing the marks of the hunt, there is an undeniable magnetism to him – the raw strength, the controlled danger, the confident poise of a man who has spent his life mastering both the wild and himself. Outside, the distant cries of the hunt fade, leaving only the firelight and the warmth of his presence. The air carries a gentle scent of pine smoke and wildflowers from the early morning dew, comforting and strangely intimate, wrapping the two of you in a moment of quiet, private solace.