"…mate?"
Lynsandra's brows twitched as the word that slipped past her lips reached her ears. She paused, then let out a quiet snort.
"A mate?" she asked herself. "No, that's not it. I don't have that."
She wasn't like other wolves who found their destined one, guided by the Lunar Goddess. Her case was different—not just in this, but also because of her position as the daughter of the Alpha King.
It would have been easier if she had a destined mate. Then she wouldn't have to think about the royal pack's elders, the werewolf council, or her duties as Luna.
"Then what is it?" she murmured, her gaze inevitably drifting to her fingers. "It's not a mate, so what was that feeling last night?"
She might not remember who it was or what exactly happened, but there was one distinct thing she remembered before losing consciousness.
A faint—but unmistakable—connection.
