Cyrus, who had been in an urgent meeting with his people, his gaze dark and cold, almost as if he would snap and kill someone the next second, shifted in his place when he suddenly started feeling hot.
The mark on his neck was itching, and his manhood started twitching. The images of how he wanted to bend Amelia over and fuck her senseless started closing his mind, distracting him from the important matter.
Feeling helpless by the sudden arousal, he glared at his wolf.
"Sylas, I swear if this is you, you will get into big trouble. This is not the time to think about such things. I understand your love for your wife, but–" Cyrus started, but his wolf looked at him warily before he could continue his scolding.
"Hey, stop blaming me without proof. It's not me. I am not thinking about those things. I know what kind of torture it would be without her here," Sylas confesses.
Cyrus narrowed his brows.
