{EMBER}
The Bloodmoon Pack's den was thick with heat, the scent of wolves and burning wood curling in the air.
Outside, the moon hung heavy and red, casting long shadows through the open window.
Lorcan stood before me, the firelight licking over his body, sharpening every carved muscle, every brutal edge. He was power—danger wrapped in flesh and bone.
My wolf recoiled at the thought, snarling inside me. Traitor. This isn't our mate.
He reached for me, fingers brushing my skin like fire meeting ice, and my wolf snarled in warning inside me. Bitch, she seethed. This isn't our mate. This isn't—
I silenced her with a growl of my own. My mate was dead. The bond was gone. The only thing left was my goal, and Lorcan was a weapon I needed in my hands.
But damn him. Damn the way he looked at me, the way his presence consumed all the space in the room, leaving no air for me to breathe.
