The pill was a necessity because Lycans weren't just wolves. They could shift whenever they wanted, not just under the full moon, nor did they house a separate wolf inside them.
Their beast and human mind were one, making them infinitely more dangerous. When they lost control, it wasn't a wolf taking over—it was their very nature breaking free.
Renar couldn't let that happen.
Yet his grip on Lethia's waist tightened, his fingers curling into the fabric of her clothes as he fought the agonizing need to devour her. The beast in him stirred, whispering, urging.
If he lost himself now, it would become a problem in Ashenhold.
'Who are you, really? Could it be you, the cursed fated mate werewolves talk about?'
Renar's mind reeled as he held Lethia tighter, burying his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply.
He had only meant to question her, to have a conversation. But now that she was in his arms, he couldn't let go.
