A Wolf's Heart, A vampire's Vow

deeper. As if the town remembered. Lydia stood in the middle of Duncan Thorne's bedroom, hands trembling as she folded the heavy gray cloak he'd tossed over his armchair earlier. The

her arrival. He'd felt it more than once. That scent fleeting, strange, then gone. Like something disguised. His wolf stirred inside him. Alert. Listening. "Have the guards sweep the perimeter," Duncan said. "And double the watch on the estate." His father raised a brow. "You think they'd come that close?" "If this was a warning," Duncan replied, eyes narrowing toward the tree line, "then yes." Lydia Later that night, Lydia stood by the window of her small servant's room, peering out at the estate grounds. Wolves moved along the edge of the garden, patrols with silver glints in their eyes. Something had truly rattled them. A kill. A body. A scent of old magic. Her heart was a stone in her chest. Could it be...? She hadn't sensed any other vampires in the area. She would've known. Wouldn't she? Unless it wasn't a vampire at all, but something worse. Her thoughts raced as she touched the necklace at her throat, fingers tracing its delicate runes. "This will hide you, little star," Isolde had whispered. "But nothing hides the truth forever. Be ready." The knock on her door made her jump. Again? She opened it cautiously. To her shock, Duncan Thorne stood there. Up close, he was even more devastating than memory allowed ,tall, sharp-eyed, moonlight catching in the line of his jaw. "I need to speak with you," he said. Lydia Lydia stepped back instinctively, unsure whether to invite him in or flee. Duncan didn't move past the threshold. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and the tension in his expression made the small space seem even smaller. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, voice low, calm , too calm. The kind of voice a predator used to put its prey at ease. "You didn't," she lied, tightening her fingers around her night robe. "It's... just late." "I know." His eyes flicked behind her briefly, scanning her modest room. "May I come in?" Everything inside her screamed no, but she stepped aside anyway. He moved in carefully, like someone trying not to scare a cornered animal. She noticed that ,how he carried his strength like a burden, not a weapon. His scent was stronger in the confined room: pine, smoke, leather... and something underneath. Something wild. Duncan turned to face her once the door shut. "There's something I need to ask you." Lydia kept her face carefully blank. "Yes?" He studied her for a long moment. "You were raised outside Ravenglade." It wasn't a question. "Yes. In Fenhollow," she replied slowly. "By a woman named Isolde. She was a healer." "I know of her. My mother used to buy herbs from her... long ago." Lydia's heart skipped. "I'm sorry for your loss," Duncan added, voice gentler now. "She was respected." "She was... everything," Lydia whispered, surprised by the ache that bloomed in her chest. "The only family I had." Duncan nodded, and a beat of silence stretched between them. He seemed... conflicted. "I asked because," he said finally, "tonight, something happened near the eastern gate. Something... unnatural." Lydia blinked slowly, careful to keep her breathing even. "I heard something happened." He didn't look awa