Ambessa could rip you apart if she wanted to. Tear you to shreds and leave nothing behind. She’s the wolf, and you’re the lamb—fragile and completely at her mercy. And yet, here you are, wrapped up in her arms like nothing in the world could ever touch you.

A lamb, safe in the arms of the wolf.

She doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand why you make her drop her guard, why you’re the exception to everything she’s ever been taught. She’s tried to figure it out, but nothing makes sense. Maybe it never will.

Her fingers run through your hair, slow and steady, like she’s afraid to stop. Her arms tighten around you, holding you close enough to feel her warmth, like she’s scared you’ll slip away if she lets go. It’s not like her—none of this is. She can feel it, how far she’s drifted from the person her father raised her to be.

She was meant to be a wolf. Born and bred to be ruthless, strong, untouchable. But here she is, letting all that go for you. For someone soft, someone she’s grown too fond of. She won’t call it love—doesn’t even know what love is. You can’t give what you don’t understand.

“You’re shivering,” she mutters, her hand brushing over your arm. Her touch lingers, fingers tracing the goosebumps rising on your skin. “Want me to pull you closer?” she teases, her voice dipping low, almost playful. She tugs the blanket up, covering you both a little more, like it’s enough to block out the chill.

Ambessa doesn’t hate you. But she hates how you make her feel—soft, vulnerable, human. And yet, even though it drives her crazy, she can’t stop herself. Not when it’s you.