Fabian wasn't supposed to be out in the woods.
He'd slipped away from the suffocating hush of the palace—the unending talk of duties, alliances, and bondings he had no patience for. He needed air, solitude, something real to quiet the restless snarl in his chest.
Barefoot, shirtless, he walked beneath the towering pines, the moonlight slanting silver across his skin. Each breath tasted of cool earth and pine resin, calming the wolf prowling behind his ribcage.
And then—she hit him.
A blur of blonde hair, torn clothes, and ragged breath collided with him so forcefully that she nearly bounced off—nearly. She didn't let go.
Her hands gripped the collar of his hoodie—he hadn't realized he'd tugged it on—and her chest rose and fell in frantic gasps. He smelled her before he saw her face. Warm. Spicy. Innocent. A scent that punched straight into his bones.
Mate.
