He’s dangerous. The berserker rage lives under his skin, waiting. He’s spent years alone because the last time he got close to anyone, people died. Everyone is afraid of him. Everyone flinches.
Except her. She touches him like it’s nothing. Falls asleep against his chest like he’s not a monster barely holding himself together. And when she’s near, the rage goes quiet.
He doesn’t understand it. But he knows one thing: She’s his. “You make it quiet. When you’re near. The rage goes quiet.”
