I went to the full moon feast planning to stay invisible.
For nineteen years, invisibility had been the only kindness my pack offered a girl with no wolf shape, no rank and no defender willing to lose teeth for her.
Then the air changed.
Cedarwood, fig and winter smoke wrapped around my lungs so sharply my knees almost buckled.
Mate.
The word did not arrive in my mind. It arrived in my bones.
Across the old manor hall, Carlisle Wolfe lifted his head. He was the blood heir of the strongest pack in America, all black eyes and inherited cruelty, and the crowd parted before he took a single step.
He leaned close enough that only I could feel his breath at my ear.
"I, Carlisle Wolfe, reject you as my mate."
The bond screamed. The pack waited for me to beg.