XLIII

Such a thing was an act of intimacy between lovers and family, but there was no hesitation in the beta. Luke pulled in a deep breath and started the rumbling vibration at once. The sound was a little off—the act being something he was unaccustomed to—and though it lacked the richness of an alpha purr, it was infinitely comforting in that moment.

"That's nice." Exhausted, Lyla sighed. "Please don't stop." Luke thumbed a spilling tear from her cheek. "I won't, Lyla."

In the voice of a broken thing, Lyla began to feel more than endless choking malaise; she felt disgust… for herself. "I hate that name."

Huddled close to her friend, like children whispering secrets, Lyla woke. Though her body ached, she was warm, surrounded in a scent of safety, and grateful for the boyish smile Luke offered once she'd pried her sticky lashes apart.

Cautious and gentle, he smoothed her tangled hair. "You look much better."