Orion's large chest rose and fell with a slow, steady breath before he huffed softly, a puff of warm air against Megan's leg. Then he gave a low, short bark—gentle, but unmistakable.
Her brow furrowed. "Orion…"
She took a step forward, eyes flicking to the fresh patch of fur that had once been matted with blood. It was clean now—untouched, as if the wounds had never existed. But she'd seen them. She'd felt them. He'd been lying in a pool of his own blood just minutes ago, barely clinging to consciousness.
"You just healed," she whispered, her voice tight with worry. "If I ride you again, I might hurt you. You're still—"
A second bark. Sharper. Certain. It wasn't just a suggestion.
Megan's heart pounded against her ribs. Her gaze softened as it locked with Orion's — those familiar kind eyes that once belonged to her husband, now staring at her from the wolf's face. But even through fur and fangs, she knew that gaze. She knew what it meant.
