I stayed face-down in the damp pine needles, the copper taste of blood still coating my tongue. I had just finished my first shift back to being human, and it was horrible. I knew it would be painful the first few times—the elders always talked about the “cracking of the soul”, but this was ridiculous. Every muscle felt like it had been shredded and stitched back together with hot wire. I lay there n@ked in the dirt, shivering as the morning mist clung to my skin, trying to find the strength just to crawl. Most people have someone with them for their first few shifts—parents to wrap them in blankets, friends to cheer for their new wolf. I had no one. I was alone, and I was the runt. My mom had died a little over a month ago. She was the only one who didn’t look at me like I was a broken clock. We both knew I would be the runt when I still hadn't shifted by seventeen. Most kids in the Silver Creek pack got their wolves at fifteen or sixteen; they’d run through the woods, howling with a pride I couldn't t***h. Eighteen was late. Unheard of. It only finally happened after the grief of losing Mom ripped through me, forcing the wolf out of my shattered heart. Saying I was depressed was an understatement. I was a ghost haunting my own life. My so-called friends had turned their backs on me the second they realized I wasn't "wolfing out" like everyone else. In a pack built on strength, being wolf-less is a social death sentence. There was only one person who didn’t bully or pick on me: Ethan Kane, the Alpha-in-waiting. We were never close—not really—but I considered him a friend. He was the one who would catch the younger sentries throwing rocks at me and growl them into submission. He’d make them stop, though it never lasted long. The second his back was turned, the whispers and the shoves started again. Ethan was everything an Alpha should be: beautiful, charming, and radiating a golden warmth that made you feel safe just being in his shadow. But that shadow was already occupied. He was always with Lydia Marsh, the Beta’s daughter and the pack’s number-one bltch. They had been together for as long as I could remember, two perfect specimens of predatory grace. Even though it hadn't happened yet, everyone knew they were fated. In our world, the pull usually manifests when both people hit twenty-one. It was a foregone conclusion. They would be mated, they would lead, and runts like me would continue to be the dirt beneath their boots. I finally managed to push myself up, my ribs aching. I reached for the spare clothes I’d hidden under a rotted log, my fingers trembling. I didn't need a mate or a crown. I just wanted the pain to stop—the physical pain of the shift, and the hollow, screaming silence where my mother’s voice used to be. I was just pulling my oversized hoodie over my head, my fingers still clumsy and shaking, when the snap of a twig made me jump. I let out a jagged sob I hadn’t known I was holding, quickly wiping at my eyes as I felt the hot sting of tears for my mom. "There you are." I gasped, spinning around to see Ethan Kane standing a few yards away. He froze, his eyes widening before he pivoted on his heel to face the trees. "Oh, sorry! I didn't—I'll turn around," he stammered. My heart hammered against my bruised ribs. I scrambled to pull on my leggings, my face burning. "Ethan? You’re... you’re looking for me?" "Yeah," he said, his voice muffled but steady. "I knew you’d be alone out here for your first few shifts and I don't know... I just wanted to see if you were okay." I stood there for a second, stunned into silence. The Alpha-in-waiting had actually come looking for me? The runt? "Um, thanks," I said, finally tucking my hair behind my ears and wiping the last of the salt from my cheeks. "Yeah, I'm okay. You can turn around now." He turned, and for a second, he just looked at me with an expression that wasn't pity—it was something softer, something that felt dangerously like care. As I took a step toward the trail, my legs gave out. The post-shift exhaustion hit me like a physical wall, and I stumbled. Before I could hit the dirt, Ethan was there. His arms were strong, smelling of sandalwood and the cold morning air. "Let me help," he murmured, steadying me. "I remember how bad it is the first time. It feels like your bones are made of glass." "Thanks," I whispered, leaning into him because I had no other choice. He draped my arm over his shoulder and began walking me toward the small, quiet house I used to share with my mother. "Your girlfriend... won't Lydia get mad?" Ethan scoffed, a confident, easy sound. "Please. I’m the soon-to-be Alpha. If I want to help a pack mate and a friend, I will. She doesn't dictate who I look out for." I let out a small, involuntary giggle at that. It was the first time I'd made that sound since the funeral. Ethan stopped and looked down at me, a smirk playing on his handsome l**s. "I like that." "Like what?" "Your giggle," he said softly. I looked up at him, my breath hitching, and then quickly turned my face away to hide the deep red flush crawling up my n**k. By the time we reached my house, he didn't leave me at the door. He helped me all the way inside, guiding me gently onto the worn velvet couch. "Thanks again, Ethan. Seriously." "You mind if I sit for a bit?" he asked, already loosening his jacket. I blinked. This was crazy. Ethan Kane actually wanted to hang out with me? "Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink? I have tea or water in the fridge." "Do you have anything stronger?" he called out, already heading toward the kitchen with the familiarity of a long-time guest. I laughed, a bit shocked. "Ethan, it's six in the morning." "Why not?" he shouted back, his voice echoing off the tile. "You must be hurting, and it’s Saturday. We’re celebrating a successful shift, Rachel." I couldn't say no. He had been the only person to treat me like a human being all month. "Yeah... there's some tequila my... my mom had. It's in the bottom cabinet," I choked out, the mention of her still feeling like a thumb pressed into a bruise. He came back with the bottle and two glasses, his expression turning solemn. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Rachel. She was a good woman." "It's okay," I said, because what else do you say to the truth? We started drinking. Then we started talking. Then the laughing started. By the time the clock on the wall hit 9:00 AM, the world was fuzzy and the pain in my limbs had dulled into a warm, tequila-soaked hum. "I'm already drunk," I slurred, leaning back against the cushions. We were sitting close together now, the TV playing some generic rom-com in the background. The mood shifted the second the couple on screen began to move together, their hands wandering as they grew intimate. Sudden shyness washed over me, a spike of nervous energy that made me try to stand up. "Where are you going?" Ethan slurred, his hand catching my wrist and pulling me—not back to the couch, but directly into his l*p. "Ethan!" I giggled, my heart thundering. "I'm going to the bathroom." I tried to squirm away, but his grip was firm. He leaned in, his mouth h******g just against the sensitive skin of my ear and n**k. "There’s that sound again," he whispered, his voice dark and honey-thick. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of my n**k, inhaling deeply.

The morning air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and the lingering sting of tequila, but all I could feel was the heat radiating from Ethan’s body. When his l**s met my n**k, the world didn't just blur; it vibrated. A low gasp escaped me, my body humming with a frequency I had never felt before. I was frozen, my eyes fluttering shut as the "runt" inside me finally felt seen, felt claimed. "Ethan," I whispered, the name a plea and a question all at once. I knew he had a girlfriend. I knew Lydia was waiting for him somewhere in the sunlight while we were drowning in the shadows of my living room. He didn't answer with words. He cupped my jaw, his thumb tracing the line of my chin as he tilted my head back, trailing searing kisses up my jawline until his mouth crashed against mine. It started slow, almost testing, before the hunger took over. When he moved me to straddle him, panic flared in my chest. "Ethan, you have a girlfriend," I managed to choke out, pulling back just an inch. "It's okay, you're the one I want most." he rasped, his eyes dark with a predatory heat that made my skin prickle. He didn't explain. He didn't justify. He just pulled me back into a k**s that tasted like a promise he had no intention of keeping. I knew it was wrong. I knew I was playing with fire, but this was Ethan Kane. He was the sun, and I had spent my whole life shivering in the dark. He reached for the hem of my hoodie, pulling it over my head in one fluid motion. I wasn't wearing a bra, and as the cool air hit my skin, I felt a sharp spike of vulnerability—until Ethan let out a low, guttural growl. He looked at me like I was a feast. "Your brests are perfect," he muttered, his voice thick as he leaned forward, devouring one with a hunger that made me arch my back. I found my fingers tangling in his golden hair, pulling him closer. "I know," I breathed. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like the runt. I felt like a goddess. He didn't waste another second. He scooped me up, his strength effortless, and carried me into my bedroom. When my back hit the mattress, reality tried to claw its way back in. As he tugged my leggings down, I reached out, my voice trembling. "Wait, Ethan... you should know. I'm a virgin." His eyes lit up, a flash of something possessive and ancient crossing his face. "It’s okay, Rachel. I’ll go slow." He moved down the bed, his hands spreading my knees wide. I felt the heat of his breath against my inner t****s before his tongue made contact, a slow, deliberate s****e that made my toes curl into the sheets. He was thorough, l*****g my p***y with a focused intensity that made the room spin. The sensation was electric, a sharp contrast to the dull ache of my first shift. I had mast**b*ted before, late at night when the loneliness got too loud, but this was a revelation. I was screaming his name within minutes, my body shattering as I c*me right on his face. He looked up, satisfied and lethal, before reaching for his wallet and sliding on a cond0m. He moved over me, the mattress dipping under his weight as he guided himself to my entrance. I felt a sharp, stretching pressure as he pushed his c**k into my p***y, filling the space that had been empty for eighteen years. He paused there, buried deep inside me, his muscles corded and tense. "You feel that?" he whispered against my ear, his voice dark and gravelly. "It’s like you were made for me." The pleasure was a physical weight, pulling me under. Ethan picked up the pace, his movements rhythmic and demanding. I was coming again before I could even catch my breath, my heels digging into the small of his back. "f**k," he g*****d, finishing a few minutes later with a sharp nip to my ear. "I’ve never gone that fast before. You're so f*****g tight." I couldn't speak. I was just a mess of tangled limbs and gasping breaths. He looked at me with a flicker of concern. "Are you okay? Was that too hard?" "No," I panted, finding my voice. "That was amazing." "Amazing, huh?" He smirked, leaning down to take my n**ple back into his mouth. I could feel him getting hard inside me again, the friction sending fresh sparks through my nervous system. I knew I should stop him, but my legs only spread wider. The worshipping started then—kisses to my n**k, hands tracing every curve of my body—until he suddenly gripped my h**s. "Flip over." Before I could even process the command, he flipped me onto my stomach, my a** thrvst into the air. He delivered a sharp smack that made me yelp, the sting mixing with the heat between my legs. "This may be more intense," he warned, his voice low. "Let me know if it’s too much." "Okay," I choked out, looking back over my shoulder. He pushed in deep, hitting a spot that made me see stars. He started slow, but as my moans turned into desperate cries, he quickened the pace. He reached forward, winding his fingers into my hair and pulling my head back hard. The combination of the pain and the sheer depth of him was too much; I came again, my body shaking with the force of it. "You like it like this?" he growled, leaning over me. "Yes!" He shifted his grip, his hand moving from my hair to my throat. He didn't squeeze hard enough to stop my breath, but he used the grip to arch my back, lifting me so the angle of his c**k went even deeper. I was seeing stars, my hands clawing at his as he pounded into me with a relentless, brutal rhythm. When he finally let go, I fell forward onto the bed, my face buried in the sheets. He kept going, his hands locked onto my h**s. As I felt the bed vibrate with my own screams, Ethan let out a dark laugh. "Dam, babe. You like it rough, don't you?" He wasn't finished. He grabbed my arm, pinning it behind my back as his other hand reached around to find my cl*t. "c*m again with me," he commanded. I lost it. I spiraled into a cl*m*x so loud I was sure the neighbors could hear me through the walls. He pulled out a moment later, smacking my a** one last time before collapsing beside me. We lay there in the silence of my room, both of us panting, the air smelling of sx and secrets. "That," Ethan breathed, looking at the ceiling. "Was. f*****g. Amazing." The silence that followed was heavy, filled only with the sound of our synchronized, ragged breathing. Ethan finally shifted, pulling me against his damp chest, his skin still radiating that addictive, golden heat. I let my head rest in the crook of his shoulder, the guilt I should have felt drowned out by the sheer intensity of being wanted. "I have to go soon," he murmured, his fingers idly tracing the line of my spine, "but don't think this was a one-time thing, Rachel. I’ve wanted to taste you for a long time now." I shivered, a fresh wave of heat blooming in my chest. He was talking like I belonged to him, like Lydia didn't exist, and in the haze of post-coital bliss, I was foolish enough to believe him. I didn't realize that for Ethan, this wasn't the start of a life together—it was just the first time he’d claimed a prize he had no intention of keeping once the sun went down. I closed my eyes, breathing in his sandalwood scent, oblivious to the fact that I was falling in love with a man who was already preparing my execution.

Ethan had been gone for about an hour, but the scent of him—that heavy, masculine sandalwood—still clung to every inch of my bedroom, thick enough to taste. I stood by the bed, stripping the sheets with trembling hands, my movements sluggish. We had left a mess of bodily fluids behind, a physical map of the last few hours that made my face heat up just looking at it. My skin still hummed with a phantom t***h, and my inner t****s felt tender and raw, a constant, pulsing reminder of the way he had moved inside me. I felt a pang of guilt when I thought of Lydia, but it was fleeting, like a candle blown out by a gale. She was a b***h who had spent years making my life a living hll, turning the entire pack against me while she wore a designer smile. It was hard to feel too bad about stealing a piece of her perfect world, even if it was just for a morning. I couldn't stop replaying the way he made my body feel. The pleasure and the pain had been incredible, a chaotic symphony that had finally silenced the grief for my mother. I would have never thought I liked it rough like that—the hair pulling, the bruising grip on my throat, but I guess I did. With him, I felt alive. Before he left, we’d talked about the obvious: this stayed between us. No one could know. He promised he’d see me again, a whispered vow against my l**s that I chose to believe with every fiber of my being. He told me I was his little secret, a treasure he wanted to keep all to himself. He said he would take care of everything and then choose me as his mate. After tucking clean, cool sheets onto the bed, the weight of the alcohol and the exhaustion from multiple org4sms finally pulled me under. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, the first real rest I’d had in months. I was shocked when I woke up. I had slept through the entire day and night, yet I felt surprisingly refreshed—no hangover, just a lingering, golden glow in my chest. I got up and dressed, realizing my fridge was empty and my stomach was finally growling. I needed to go to the market for groceries, a task I usually dreaded. The local market was crowded with pack members, their scents of pine and musk clashing in the aisles. I tried to keep my head down as usual, pulling my hoodie sleeves over my palms. Then I saw them. Ethan and Lydia were standing by the produce, her arm linked tightly through his as she laughed at something he said. They looked like royalty, the golden Alpha and his Beta queen. For a split second, Ethan’s eyes met mine. My heart stopped, my lungs seizing up. I waited for a sign—a secret smile, a twitch of his l*p, anything to tell me that yesterday meant something. But his face was a mask of polite, icy indifference. He looked right through me like I was a pane of glass. I looked away quickly, my chest tightening with a jagged stab to the heart. I knew it would be like this, but the coldness of his gaze was a different kind of pain than the one I’d asked for in the bedroom. I tried to focus on my list, my eyes blurring as I reached for a box of cereal. The isolation felt heavier than ever, a physical weight on my shoulders. I was heading down the aisle when a tall, muscular figure blocked the end. It was Jaxson Reed, Ethan’s best friend and the soon-to-be Beta. He was one of the worst—a man who took pleasure in reminding me exactly where I stood in the hierarchy. I stopped, my breath hitching, and turned to walk the other way, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm. I almost made it to the end of the aisle when another guy stepped out, cutting me off. Caleb, a high-ranking enforcer who followed Jaxson like a loyal hound, crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Hey, runt. Where are you going?" Caleb asked, a cruel smirk dancing on his l**s. I looked behind me; Jaxson was closing in, his presence massive and suffocating. He didn't just walk; he prowled. "I'm just shopping," I said, my voice coming out in its usual soft, timid tone. I hated how small I sounded. I tried to sidestep Caleb, but he lunged forward, pushing me back hard into Jaxson. Jaxson’s hands clamped onto my shoulders like iron talons, holding me steady. His fingers dug into the muscle, and I knew the bruises would be dark by nightfall. "What's the rush?" Caleb leaned in close, his nose wrinkling as he sniffed the air around my n**k. "You smell... different, Rachel." I struggled, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Get off of me! Ow, you're hurting me!" I was sure I’d have fingerprints etched into my skin. "Oh? What's this?" A sharp, melodic voice cut through the aisle. Lydia Marsh appeared from behind them, her eyes glittering with a predatory malice. "Are you being a w***e, little runt? Taking on two at a time in public? I guess when you can't find a mate, you'll take whatever you can get." I stayed quiet, staring at the scuffed floor. I knew from experience that it was always worse when I tried to speak up. Lydia reached out and, with a violent flick of her wrist, smacked the shopping basket out of my hand. Glass shattered and groceries scattered across the linoleum, a mess just like the one I’d cleaned off my sheets. At the same time, Jaxson gave me a violent shove. I hit the ground hard, my knees barking in pain as I landed on the cold floor. "Hey, what's going on?" My head snapped up. Ethan was standing there, his hands in his pockets, looking bored. Lydia immediately shifted, her face melting into a mask of sweet, sugary concern. "Oh, Ethan! Poor Rachel tripped and dropped her stuff. We were just helping her up," she cooed, her hand resting on his arm. "Yeah," Jaxson added, his voice a mock-friendly rumble. He bent down, picking up a dented can and tossing it into my fallen basket. As he leaned over, his breath hot against my ear, he whispered so only I could hear. "Ethan isn't always going to be around to save you, runt." He stood up, and the three of them began to walk away, their laughter echoing through the store. I looked up just as Ethan glanced back for a fleeting second. There was no love in his eyes, only a cold, distant pity that made me feel like an insect under a boot. I finished my shopping in a blur of tears, the walk home feeling like a mile-long gauntlet. I crawled into bed that night feeling discarded and used, the silence of the house echoing my mother's absence. Just as I was about to turn off the lamp and succumb to the dark, my phone buzzed. It was a number I didn't recognize. "Hello?" I whispered, my voice cracked. "Hey... it's Ethan." His voice was low, intimate—the sandalwood and tequila voice. It was a total contrast to the man who had watched me fall in the store. "Can I come over?" I looked at the bruises on my knees, then at the empty side of the bed. I should have said no. I should have told him to go back to Lydia. But the hunger for his t***h was a sickness I wasn't ready to cure. And Lydia hurt me, she made my life in the pack difficult. Ethan was the price she had to pay. "Sure," I whispered.

Three years later. The sunlight filtered through the blinds of my small bedroom, casting golden bars across the skin I had once again surrendered to Ethan. We had just finished having sx, the air heavy with the familiar, stifling scent of sandalwood and spent passion. I lay there, tracing the scars on his shoulder, listening to him whisper the same promises I had heard for a thousand days. The same words I kept falling for, like a fool who never learned that the sun only burns. "Even though I love you, I can't just break up with her," Ethan murmured, his voice smooth and rehearsed. "You know how it is, Rachel. The politics, the families... you know that." I let out a jagged sigh and sat up, pulling the sheet to my chest. The "runt" was gone, replaced by a woman who was tired of being a secret. "It’s been almost three years of this, Ethan. How much longer? You keep saying you love me. You keep saying I’m your mate." "You are!" he said, his voice tightening with a sudden, sharp intensity. He sat up too, reaching out to rub my shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle with a possessive grip. He began kissing the curve of my n**k, his l**s searing. "I can feel it. My wolf is drawn to you in a way I can’t explain. When you turn twenty-one in a few days, you’ll see. The bond will snap into place. You’ll be my mate, and I’ll make everyone—including Lydia—bow to you." He found the sensitive spot on my n**k, the one that always drove me crazy, regardless of how much resentment was boiling in my blood. I let out a low m**n, my head falling back, but I fought the fog in my brain. "Ethan," I whispered, my voice trembling. "If we aren't mates... if that bond doesn't happen on my birthday... I don't know if I can keep doing this. I can't be your shadow anymore." He didn't pull away. He just whispered into my skin, his breath hot and chilling all at once. "Sure you can, Rachel. Alphas have mistresses all the time. It's an ancient tradition. You’ll always have a place by my side." The word hit me like a physical blow. Mistress. Something snapped inside me—a spark of that dormant power I didn't yet understand. I lurched away from him, standing up and wrapping a robe around myself, my heart pounding with a new kind of fury. "No, Ethan! You aren't listening!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "I am not going to be a 'mistress.' I am not going to watch you marry Lydia and have her children while I wait for you in the dark like a dog waiting for scraps!" Ethan g*****d, a sound of pure frustration, and flopped back onto the pillows. He looked up at the ceiling, radiating the arrogance of a man who knew he held all the cards. "I am listening, Rachel. I'm being realistic. I have a pack to lead. My father is stepping down because he’s sick, and the ceremony is in three days. I have to have stability." "Stability? You mean Lydia," I spat. "She’s the Beta’s daughter! The pack expects it!" He sat up again, his eyes flashing with Alpha dominance, trying to cow me into silence. "But I'm choosing you for my heart. Isn't that enough?" "It’s never been enough!" The silence that followed was suffocating. Ethan watched me for a long moment, his expression softening into that manipulative charm that had kept me trapped for three years. He reached for his jeans on the floor and pulled a small, velvet-covered box from the pocket. "Look, I didn't come here to fight," he said softly. "I got you something. It’s an early birthday present. Since... well, since your birthday falls on the same day as the Alpha ceremony." My heart did a painful somersault. My twenty-first birthday—the day my wolf was supposed to find her fated mate—was the same day he would officially take the mantle of Alpha and, likely, announce his permanent union with Lydia. He held the box out to me, his gaze locked onto mine. "Open it, Rachel. Please." I couldn't stay angry when he looked at me like that. I let out a soft huff, rolling my eyes as a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I took the small velvet box from his hand and popped the latch. Inside, resting against the black silk, was a delicate gold bracelet. It featured a perfectly carved gold wolf, its head tilted as if howling at the moon, with two piercing, beautiful blue gems for the eyes. The way the moonlight from the window caught the stones made them look alive. "It’s gorgeous," I whispered, trailing a finger over the cool metal. "When I saw it, it reminded me of your wolf," Ethan said, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "With your beautiful eyes." He paused, a mischievous glint entering his gaze as he let out a mock sigh. "Unfortunately, they didn't have one with beautiful brests. I checked." I burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking as I sat back down on the edge of the bed and slapped his arm playfully. "You’re impossible." "But I'm right," he chuckled, catching my hand and pressing a k**s to my palm. "Happy birthday, Rachel." "Thank you," I said softly, looking at the gift again. It was the kind of thing a man bought his mate, not a mistress. "Will I really not see you again before the ceremony?" Ethan’s expression turned guarded for a split second. "My schedule is really tight with my father’s transition. I don’t know. But hey... who knows? Maybe our bond will hit in front of everyone at the ceremony. Then they’d have no choice but to bow when I accept you as my Luna." I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. "Yeah," I whispered, setting the bracelet carefully on the nightstand. My eyes caught the digital clock: 2:30 AM. "Wow, it’s already two-thirty." "Is it?" Ethan stood up, stretching his well-muscled arms above his head. "You want to go for a run?" I blinked, surprised. "Now? Aren't you worried someone will see us?" "No," he said, a confident smirk on his face. "I know a spot nobody goes. Come on... my wolf wants to play with you." He wiggled his eyebrows and gave a low chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine. I sat there for a second, weighing the risk. "I don't work tomorrow," I mused, looking up at him. "Are you sure?" "I'm the future Alpha, Rachel. I'm sure." He reached down, pulling me up by my hands. "Come on." I dressed quickly, my heart racing with the thrill of the secrecy. We snuck through the shadows of the pack house and the surrounding cabins for about ten minutes, moving like ghosts through the trees until we finally crossed the territory line. "Are you sure we can be on this side?" I whispered, looking back at the invisible boundary. "Yeah, this is unclaimed territory," he reassured me, interlacing his fingers with mine. "It’s neutral ground at the moment. Nobody patrols out here." We walked hand in hand through the dense woods until the trees suddenly broke away, revealing a massive, hidden meadow. The grass was chest-high, a sea of silver-green waving in the breeze. It wasn't a full moon—that had passed a few days ago—but the waning light was still bright enough to turn the field into something out of a dream. I gasped, my breath hitching in my throat. "Ethan, it’s beautiful." He led me to the center of the tall grass, the blades whispering against our legs. Without a word, we began to shed our clothes. Three years ago, the shift was an agony that felt like my soul was cracking open. Now, it was just a numbing sensation, a familiar pressure I had learned to navigate with practice. I usually hated shifting in front of others. I was tired of the whispers about the "runt" and the way people looked at my smaller frame with pity. But with Ethan, I didn't feel the need to hide. We shifted side by side. Ethan’s wolf was magnificent. He was a massive, tan beast with streaks of blonde hair running through his coat like sunlight, towering over me and the grass. Even on all fours, I was completely submerged in the greenery; you couldn't even see me from a distance. This was the first time our wolves had ever been truly alone together. In pack runs, I was always the one gasping in the back, left in the dust by the stronger hunters. But here, the hierarchy didn't matter. Ethan’s wolf circled mine, letting out a low, vibrating rumble and making playful nips at my ears. My wolf, usually so shy, felt a surge of pure joy. She wanted to play. Knowing he would catch me anyway, I turned and bolted through the tall grass, the blades stinging my nose. Behind me, I heard a deep, resonant howl as Ethan gave chase. He was fast—dangerously fast—but I could tell he was holding back, letting me stay ahead just long enough to feel the wind in my fur. It only lasted about five minutes before he pounced. He hit me from the side, his massive weight leveling me to the ground. We rolled through the grass, a tangle of tan and brown fur, nipping and growling playfully until I finally gave up. I lay flat on my back, tongue lolling out as I panted with exhaustion. Ethan’s wolf didn't pull away. Instead, he walked over and wrapped his large body around mine in a protective, heavy embrace. He rested his large head over my n**k, his scent flooding my senses. In that moment, buried in the tall grass and hidden from the world, I truly believed it. Our humans might be complicated and messy, but our wolves... they were one. I lay there in his warmth, convinced that in a couple days, the universe would finally tell the rest of the pack what I already knew. We were fated. We had to be.

The walk back to my small, quiet house was a blur of silver moonlight and the lingering heat of Ethan’s fur against mine. It was nearly 4:00 AM when I slipped through my front door, the floorboards creaking under my feet like a familiar greeting. I didn't turn on the lights. I didn't want to break the spell. I leaned back against the door, my breath still coming in shallow hitches, a silly, permanent smile plastered onto my face. For the first time in three years, the hollow ache in my chest—the one left behind by my mother’s death and the pack’s cruelty—felt full. My wolf was purring deep in my mind, a rhythmic, contented sound I hadn't heard from her since... well, ever. She felt claimed. She felt like she belonged to the strongest, most beautiful creature in the woods. And if she felt it, it had to be true. Wolves didn't lie the way humans did. They didn't care about politics or Beta daughters or "stability." They cared about the soul. I walked into my bedroom and caught my reflection in the vanity mirror. My hair was a bird's nest of dried grass and twigs, and there was a faint smudge of dirt on my cheek, but my eyes were glowing. I looked at the gold bracelet on the nightstand, the blue gems of the wolf’s eyes catching the last of the night. "Two days," I whispered to the empty room. "Just two more days." I climbed into bed, the sheets still smelling faintly of Ethan’s sandalwood, and fell into a sleep so deep it felt like drowning in honey. The next afternoon was a different story. The bliss of the meadow didn't quite survive the harsh light of the pack square. With only forty-eight hours left until the Alpha Ceremony, the village was a hive of frantic activity. Banners in the Silver Creek colors—deep navy and silver—were being draped from every balcony. Large wooden stages were being hammered into place, and the scent of roasting meat began to drift through the air. I tried to keep to the shadows, carrying a small basket of laundry toward the communal wash-house. I wanted to stay invisible. I wanted to protect the glow I felt inside, but the universe had other plans. "Look at her. Smiling like she actually has a reason to be at the ceremony." I froze. That voice was like nails on a chalkboard. I turned to see Lydia Marsh standing near the fountain, surrounded by her usual gaggle of sycophants. She was wearing a dress that probably cost more than my house, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed. Beside her stood Jaxson, the soon-to-be Beta. He was watching me with those cold, calculating eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't quite like. "Maybe she thinks the Moon Goddess is going to perform a miracle," Jaxson chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Maybe she thinks the runt is finally going to get a pity-mate." Lydia stepped closer, her eyes scanning me with a terrifying precision. "You smell... happy, Rachel. It’s annoying. Usually, you smell like damp earth and desperation." I clutched my laundry basket tighter, my knuckles turning white. "I'm just going to the wash-house, Lydia. I don't want any trouble." "Trouble?" Lydia laughed, a sharp, tinkling sound. "Rachel, you aren't significant enough to be 'trouble.' You’re a footnote. In two days, Ethan becomes Alpha. He’ll take his place, he’ll take his chosen mate and Luna, and you’ll finally realize that your little 'friendship' with him was just charity work." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that only I could hear. "He’s been spending a lot of time away lately. 'Business,' he says. But when he comes home to me, he’s distant. I wonder... do you think he’s finally realized how much of a burden you are? That he’s tired of playing protector to a broken clock?" I felt a surge of heat in my palms—that strange, flickering energy I’d felt before. For a second, I wanted to scream the truth. I wanted to tell her exactly where Ethan had been at 3:00 AM. I wanted to tell her about the meadow and the way his wolf had wrapped around mine. But I held my tongue. The secret was my only power. If I gave it away now, I’d lose everything before the bond could even form. "Happy birthday for tomorrow, Rachel," Lydia added, her smile returning like a predator's. "I hope you get exactly what you deserve." They walked away, Jaxson throwing a final, lingering look over his shoulder. I stood there, trembling, until the heat in my hands subsided. They didn't know. They couldn't know. Ethan was mine in the dark, and soon, he would be mine in the light. The rest of the day was a blur of nervous energy. I cleaned my house until my fingers were raw. I polished the gold bracelet until it shone like a beacon. I couldn't eat; my stomach was a knot of butterflies and dread. As the sun began to set on the eve of my twenty-first birthday, I climbed up onto the small flat roof of my house. From here, I could see the silhouette of the mountains and the distant glow of the pack’s bonfires. The air was getting colder, the scent of autumn pine sharp and crisp. Tomorrow, everything would change. In our world, the twenty-first birthday was the threshold. It was when the soul reached maturity, when the "Fated Bond" finally manifested. If two people were meant to be, a scent would ignite between them—a scent so powerful it eclipsed everything else. A pull that couldn't be ignored. I sat on the shingles, pulling my knees to my chest, and looked up at the moon. It was a silver sliver now, a curved blade hanging in the velvet black of the sky. "Moon Goddess," I whispered, my voice caught in the wind. "I know I’ve never asked for much. I’ve accepted being the runt. I’ve accepted being alone. I’ve even accepted the silence after my mother died." A tear escaped, tracking a hot line down my cold cheek. "But please... not this. Don't let the last three years be a lie. I know he’s an Alpha, and I know I’m nothing in their eyes. But he looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world when the doors are closed. He gives me his warmth when I’m freezing." I squeezed my eyes shut, envisioning Ethan’s tan wolf in the high grass. I pictured the way his human hands felt on my w***t, the way he whispered that I was his mate. "Please, Great Mother. Bless me with him. Let the bond snap. Let the world see what he sees. Don't let me be a mistress. Let me be his Luna. Let me be the one who stands beside him when they put that crown on his head." I sat there for hours, praying until my voice was gone and my limbs were numb from the cold. I watched the stars wheel across the sky, marking the minutes until I turned twenty-one. Tomorrow, I wouldn't be a girl anymore. I wouldn't be the late-shifter or the grieving daughter. Tomorrow, I would either be the most powerful woman in the Silver Creek pack, or I would be the girl who lost her soul to a man who never intended to keep it. As the first hint of grey began to t***h the horizon, signaling the dawn of my birthday, I felt a strange, tingly sensation at the base of my skull. It wasn't the shift. It was something else. Something older. "Happy birthday to me," I whispered. I climbed back down into my room, lay on top of my covers, and waited for the sun to rise on the most important day of my life. I had no idea that the "blessing" I was praying for was about to become the very thing that would burn my world to the ground.

The dawn of my twenty-first birthday didn't arrive with a choir of angels or a magical shift in the atmosphere. I woke up at 6:00 AM, my skin prickling with an agonizingly sharp anticipation. I was officially twenty-one. This was the moment. I lay in the dim light for a long time, breathing deeply, waiting for that legendary, soul-shattering scent of my mate to flood the room. Nothing. Just the familiar smell of my old house and the lingering trail of the sandalwood candle I’d burned the night before. I couldn't sit still. I threw on a simple dress and headed out, my eyes darting through the bustling crowds of the pack square. I needed to find Ethan. I needed to see if the distance was the problem—maybe the bond just needed proximity to ignite. I searched the faces of the warriors, the elders, and the families setting up for the festival, but he was nowhere to be found. Giving up on the main square, I ducked into a quiet back alley to head home. Suddenly, a strong hand reached out from the shadows, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind a brick building. I gasped, but before I could scream, Ethan’s mouth was on mine. He pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark, and whispered, "Happy birthday." "Ethan—" "Meet me at your house in five minutes," he commanded, his voice a low vibration that left me breathless. Before I could even nod, he was gone, slipping back into the crowd. I sprinted home, my heart hammering. When I burst through my front door, he was already there, standing in the center of my living room. He didn't say a word as he crossed the space and pulled me into a bruising k**s. Things escalated instantly, his hands roaming over my body with a frantic energy, but as we moved together, a cold realization settled in my gut. There was no spark. No lightning bolt. No fated pull that they told us about in the stories. I pulled back, my hands trembling as I looked into his eyes. "What?" he asked, his breathing heavy. "I guess... we aren't mates," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "The bond didn't come, Ethan." He didn't even flinch. "It’s okay," he insisted, cupping my face. "I still choose you, Rachel. Mates or not, you’re the one I want. Now come here and let me give you your birthday present." He pulled me back in, but the sadness was a heavy weight in my chest. He sensed it, pulling back to look at me with an intensity that bordered on desperate. "Look at me. I love you. My wolf and my heart choose you. Be here with me now. We’ll talk about the rest after the ceremony, okay?" "Okay," I whispered, desperate to drown out the disappointment. The k**s turned feral. Ethan let out a guttural growl, the sound of a wolf pushing against the surface, and slammed me against the wall. He grabbed my chin, tilting my head back to gain access to my n**k, his teeth grazing the skin. I was m*****g, my body grinding against his, desperate for the distraction. "I know what you need," he whispered, nipping at my ear before twirling me around and leading me toward the bedroom. I let out a breathless giggle as he threw me onto the bed. "Take your clothes off." "Yes, Alpha," I said in a low, submissive voice. His eyes turned almost black at the title, his predatory aura flaring. We stripped in a blur of motion. He stood over me for a moment, his gaze devouring me. "You’re perfect. Come here." I crawled over to him on my knees, the velvet of the duvet soft beneath me. He cupped my brests, his thumb pinching my n**ple hard enough to make me gasp before he bent down to k**s me. I m****d into his mouth, and I could feel him smiling against my l**s—the smile of a man who knew exactly how to control me. He grabbed my hair, guiding my head down. I went willingly, trailing searing kisses down his abs until I reached the length of him. After three years, there was no shyness left between us; I knew his body as well as my own. I teased him for a moment before taking his c**k fully into my mouth, the gag reflex long since trained away. "f**k, Rachel," he g*****d, his fingers tightening in my hair as he started to move his h**s. After a few minutes, he pulled back. "Flip over." I obeyed, and he moved into a 69 position. He was relentless, his hands moving between my legs to play with my cl1t while his c**k occupied my mouth. The rhythm was punishing, his b**ls slapping against my face with every thrvst. I was lost in a haze of heat until he suddenly leaned up and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to my p***y. I gasped—half in pain, half in a shocked spike of pleasure. "Turn around," he ordered. I bit my l*p and turned. He threw my legs into the air and slammed into me, abandoning any pretense of being slow or soft. I was used to our rough encounters, but this felt different. There was a jagged edge to him today, an underlying anger that was bleeding into every thrvst. He was pinching me harder, his movements almost violent. He flipped me over again, pinning me to the mattress as he drove into me. I cried out his name, my voice echoing off the walls. "Call me Alpha," he growled, his voice a terrifying rumble. "Yes... yes, Alpha!" I sobbed out. He pulled my body up against his by my throat, his grip firm as he pinched my nut with bruising force. "Whose w***e are you?" "Yours," I gasped, the air thin in my lungs. "I'm yours." He threw my face down against the bed and delivered a smack to my a** so hard I knew it would leave a mark for days. I yelped into the pillow. "Whose w***e?" "Yours, Alpha!" He growled, a sound of pure triumph. "That’s right." He f**ked me with a savage intensity, bending my body into positions we had never tried, his dirty talk darker and more demeaning than it had ever been. I gave him everything—my body, my voice, my pride. By the time he finally finished and collapsed beside me, I was so spent I wasn't sure I could even stand up for the ceremony. We lay there for a few minutes, the only sound the ragged synchronization of our breathing. "Are you okay?" I asked softly, turning my head toward him. "Yeah. Why?" "You just seemed... I don't know. Angry." He caught his breath, staring at the ceiling. "You don't want to hear about it, Rachel." I rolled over to face him, propping myself up on an elbow. "I do. What's wrong?" Ethan sighed, a bitter sound. "It was Lydia this morning. I was trying to have s*x with her, and she always insists on taking it slow. She says it’s 'making love,' but I don't want that." I froze. He said it so casually, as if he hadn't just slapped me across the face with the reality of his other life. He looked at me then, his expression completely unapologetic. "I want what we have. Rough. Unfiltered. Hard." I felt a coldness wash over me that had nothing to do with the morning air. I sat up, pulling the covers around me. "So... this was just a booty call? You were just taking your anger out on me because your 'Luna' wouldn't give you what you wanted?" Ethan leaned up, frowning. "No, Rachel, not like that. You just... you know how to take it. You give me what I need." I let out a sharp, angry huff of a laugh. "It still sounds like she wouldn't give it to you, so you came to me to get your rocks off." "No, Rachel. We did do it," he said, his voice rising in frustration. "But I needed more. I needed you." I stood up, my legs shaking, the gold bracelet on the nightstand suddenly looking like a piece of cheap junk. "I’m sorry, but you need to leave." "Rachel, please don't be mad," he said, reaching for his pants. "I told you that you didn't want to hear it. But I do have to go. I'm sure they're looking for me at the pack house." "Yeah," was all I could manage. He dressed quickly, moving with the practiced ease of a man who had done this a hundred times. He walked to the door and paused, looking back at me with that same charming smile that had kept me trapped for years. "I love you, Rachel. I'll find you after the ceremony." The door clicked shut, and for the first time on my twenty-first birthday, I realized that the "blessing" I had prayed for might actually be a curse.

The silence of my house was deafening. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the phantom pressure of Ethan’s hands and heard the low rumble of his voice—the same voice that had essentially admitted I was nothing more than a pressure valve for his frustration. A "booty call." The words felt like lead in my stomach. I didn't want to go. I wanted to crawl into bed and wake up when I was twenty-two. But in Silver Creek, an Alpha’s coronation wasn't a suggestion; it was a requirement. Even for a runt. Even for a secret. I told myself I was going because I had to, but a small, traitorous part of me needed to see him stand on that stage and realize exactly what he was throwing away. I took my time getting ready, moving like I was underwater. When I finally stood before the mirror, I gasped. The dress I’d chosen was a deep midnight blue—the exact shade of the sapphire eyes on the wolf bracelet Ethan had clamped onto my wrist. It was elegant but daring, with a neckline that showed just enough cIeevage to be intentional. For the first time in years, I didn't look like a shadow. I looked like a woman who was done hiding. I stepped into the cool evening air, navigating the back streets toward the Great Plaza. The old Alpha had been failing for months, his strength withering until he was a ghost. If the transition didn't happen tonight, the pack would be vulnerable to any predator looking for a weak throne. I was a block away when mocking laughter made my blood run cold. "Damnn," a voice drawled. "Is that... no. Is that Rachel?" I froze. I knew that voice. Jaxson. I heard the sharp click of heels—Lydia. "Wow, Rachel," she sneered, her voice dripping with faux-sweetness. "Dressing like the w***e you are? I suppose it’s the only way you’ll get anyone to look at you." I forced myself to turn. They were spilling out from a side street in their finest ceremonial silks. Jaxson didn't look disgusted; his eyes traveled slowly over my curves with a predatory smirk. "I’m digging it," Jaxson said, ignoring Lydia’s glare. He took a slow step toward me, his scent—stale beer and cedar—cloying in the air. "You know, Rachel, if you ever get lonely... I can keep you company at night." He reached out for the strap of my dress, but a sound so primal it stopped him in his tracks sliced through the air. A low, vibrating growl ripped through the alley. I looked past Jaxson to see Ethan standing there, flanked by Caleb. Ethan’s face was a mask of pure rage. His eyes weren't on Lydia; they were fixed on Jaxson’s hand. Jaxson and Lydia spun around, the color draining from Jaxson’s face. Ethan hadn't stood up for me in public in three years. "What the hll is your problem?" Jaxson blurted, his voice cracking under the Alpha-pressure. Ethan didn't answer. He just stared, chest heaving, his wolf pushing so hard against the surface that his pupils were blown wide. Finally, Jaxson took a hurried step back. "Sorry," Jaxson muttered. "We’re in a hurry. Let’s go." He gave me one last look up and down before scurrying away. Lydia looked like she’d been slapped. She scrambled to Ethan’s side, grabbing his arm. "What was that, baby? Are you okay?" Ethan didn't look at her. He was still staring at me, a flicker of something like regret—or possessiveness—burning in his eyes. He didn't say a word to Lydia as he allowed her to lead him away. I stood there trembling. The bracelet felt like a brand. He had growled for me, but he was walking away with her. The Great Plaza was a sea of shifting bodies, the scale of the event hitting me as I stepped inside. This wasn't just a transition; it was a summit of power. I moved through the crowd, my heart thudding with a strange tightness. It felt like a band of iron was cinching around my chest. Just nerves, I lied to myself. The seating rose in steep tiers like a Roman coliseum, focusing every eye on the circular stone stage. Behind it sat the empty, throne-like chairs of state. I found a seat in the middle rows, trying to blend into the shadows, but the tightness only grew. It was a vibrating, electric heat. Then, the brass trumpets sounded. The room went dead silent. The Alphas began their procession. First came the Silver Creek elders. Ethan’s father sat in a wheelchair, his skin like parchment, looking like a man clinging to life by a thread. Beside him walked Ethan’s mother, regal and stoic. And then, there was Ethan. He looked devastating. In black ceremonial leathers, he radiated a raw authority that made my breath catch. His blonde-streaked hair was swept back, his jaw set in a hard line. Next came the Ashford family, with Jaxson leading the way, his chest puffed out with arrogance. Behind them trailed four other regional Alphas—grizzled veterans whose scents clashing in the air. But then, the atmosphere shattered. Demetrius Graves stepped out last. The air seemed to drop ten degrees. He didn't just walk; he prowled. He was taller than any Alpha I had ever seen, with pitch-black hair and dangerous, sharp features. He was smoking hot in a way that felt like a threat—a dark, forbidden heat that made the room feel too small. As they took their seats, the scents finally hit me. Usually, a pack meeting was a muddy blur, but today, my senses were screaming. I could smell Ethan—sandalwood and bourbon—but there was something else weaving through it. Something like a brewing storm, ozone, and dark earth. My chest tightened until it was a stabbing pain. My skin began to itch, a feverish heat blooming under the surface. My eyes widened as realization crashed over me. No. Not here. Not now. The words every wolf dreamed of felt like a death sentence. The fated bond was waking up. After three years of silence, my wolf was finally deciding to choose her mate. The heat in my veins felt less like a wolf and more like something ancient and shimmering. Why is it so late? I screamed inwardly, my nails digging into the stone bench. The Alpha of Silver Creek began to speak, his voice amplified by the stones, but I couldn't hear a word. My focus was locked on the stage, where the atmosphere was shifting into something volatile. Ethan was no longer the picture of composed authority. He had become visibly restless, his fingers twitching against the arms of his chair and his knee bouncing with a frantic energy. He began to scan the tiers of the plaza, his nostrils flaring as he fought to pull a specific scent out of the heavy air. His wolf was clawing at the surface, demanding to be let out, demanding to find what was calling to it. Then, his head snapped in my direction. His eyes locked onto mine instantly, with a precision that made my breath hitch. For a heartbeat, the rest of the world vanished. There was only Ethan, his pupils blown so wide they swallowed the blue of his irises. In that look, I saw a flash of pure, agonizing recognition. He felt it. He knew. The bond he had waited years for was finally snapping into place, tying him to the girl he had spent the morning treating like an inconvenience. The pull was too strong, a primal force that ignored the thousands of eyes watching him. Slowly, as if pulled by an invisible chain, Ethan stood. He rose from his seat in the middle of his father’s speech, his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. The sound echoed through the silent plaza like a gunshot. He stood tall, his chest heaving, his gaze anchored to mine as the entire world realized the Alpha-in-waiting was staring at the pack runt. The bond was screaming. The choice was right in front of him. And for one heartbeat, everyone held their breath.

"NOO!" The scream ripped through the heavy silence of the plaza, sharp enough to draw blood. It was Lydia. She wasn't on the stage yet; she was standing in the front row of the stands, her face contorting into a mask of pure, ugly realization. She saw the way Ethan was looking at me. She saw the way the air between us was shimmering with a heat that didn't belong to anyone else. The bond was no longer a whisper; it was a roar. Ethan looked torn, his body vibrating with the effort of standing still. His wolf was right there, visible in the wild, desperate light in his eyes. My heart soared, a foolish, fragile hope blooming in my chest. He told me he would accept me, I thought, my vision blurring with tears of relief. This is it. The end of the secrets. The end of the shadows. As if pulled by an invisible tether, I stood. The force of the connection was a physical weight, dragging me toward the stage. I didn't care about the thousands of eyes. I didn't care about the gasps or the murmurs of "runt." I walked down the stone steps, my navy dress fluttering around my legs, as Ethan stepped off the dais to meet me. We met in the open space between the seats and the throne. I reached him, breathless and trembling, and looked up into his face. I was smiling, my soul laid b**e, waiting for him to say the words that would change my life forever. But as I reached for him, Ethan’s expression shifted. The vulnerability I’d seen a moment ago vanished, replaced by a mask of cold, hard stone. His eyes, once wide with recognition, narrowed into slits of icy determination. "I, Ethan Kane of Silver Creek," he began, his voice amplified by the stones of the plaza so that every pack in attendance could hear, "reject you, Rachel Teal, as my mate and future Luna." The words hit me like a physical blow to the chest, a slap that stole the very air from my lungs. My smile didn't just fade; it shattered. The bond, which had been a warm, golden thread seconds ago, suddenly turned into jagged shards of ice, piercing through my heart. The crowd gasped—a collective intake of breath that sounded like a vacuum. Behind Ethan, I could see his father’s eyes widen and Lydia’s face shift from terror to a smug, cruel triumph. "Ethan?" I whispered, the name catching in my throat. My hand went to the sapphire bracelet on my wrist, the metal suddenly feeling like a shackle. "You... you said—" "I said what was necessary to keep you in my bed," he cut me off, his voice low enough only for me to hear, though his face remained a mask of Alpha authority for the crowd. "I am the Alpha of Silver Creek, Rachel. I need a Queen, not a runt with no lineage. I need power, not a mistress playing dress-up." He stepped closer, his scent of sandalwood and bourbon—once my sanctuary—now smelling like rot and betrayal. "Accept it," he hissed, his eyes flicking to the Lycan King, who was watching us with an unreadable expression. "Accept the rejection and go back to the shadows where you belong. Don't make me humiliate you further." I stood there, exposed in the center of the world, feeling the bond beginning to wither and die inside me. The heat was being replaced by a cold, agonizing void. I looked at the man I had loved in secret for three years and realized I had never known him at all. I opened my mouth to speak, to scream, to fight—but the words wouldn't come. My knees felt weak, and the sapphire on my wrist felt like it was glowing with a sudden, angry heat. I collapsed to my knees, the stone floor biting into my skin. The pain in my chest was so sharp I thought my heart was physically tearing in two. I knew the law of our kind: I had to accept the rejection. If I didn’t, my wolf couldn't heal. She could ultimately die, and I would be left weaker than I already was. But as I felt my inner wolf whimpering, curling into a ball of agony, I realized she wanted to die. She didn't want a world where Ethan didn't want us. As I knelt there, head bowed and hair shielding my tear-stained face, the plaza fell into a suffocating silence. Then, the rhythmic sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed against the stone. Gasps erupted from the crowd. I couldn't make out the whispered words around me; I didn't even want to. The other smells that had been mixed with Ethan's were still there, growing stronger and more overwhelming with every second. Suddenly, I felt long, powerful fingers hook beneath my chin, guiding my face up. They were warm and steady, leaving a trail of fire across my skin. I opened my eyes, hoping against hope to see Ethan, but I gasped as I found myself face-to-face with the Lycan King. Demetrius Graves loomed over me, his dark eyes swirling with a depth of power that made my soul tremble. His face was inches from mine, his expression a terrifying mix of lethal cold and strange, intense focus. "Accept his rejection," he commanded, his voice a low, melodic vibration that seemed to settle the frantic beating of my heart. "And come with me." I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, unable to process the words. "No!" Ethan’s voice cracked through the shock. I looked over to see him stepping forward, his face pale but his eyes burning with possessive rage. “She can't go with you. She is my mate!”