After returning to the penthouse, Petne sat heavily on the edge of his bed, cupping his chin in both hands, his mind wretched with spiraling thoughts. Thoughts of Fenrir…
Her overwhelming presence lingered in his mind like a shadow. What worried him the most was her destructive nature—something so primal, so untamed—that he feared if he wasn't careful, she could cause unimaginable havoc in the Space World. Disrupting the fragile peace.
Since her awakening, Fenrir had changed. For better or worse, Petne wasn't sure. Her behavior was no longer predictable, and that scared him. She might not hurt anyone physically, but it couldn't be denied that her mischievous tendencies could unravel into something far more dangerous. He feared her power, feared what might happen if she ever decided to turn against his wishes.
But she was one of his women too—one he couldn't control.
His fingers tightened over his chin, lost in the storm of conflicting emotions.
