The Rowan line does not bind itself to weakness. My family’s women have always been fierce—warriors, seers, leaders. My mother, my sisters, my aunts: all legends in their own right. And me? I was raised to believe strength demands strength.
But Selene is not strong.
She’s a healer who fumbles with her gift, a wolf who trembles when others bare their teeth. And though the mate bond fires up my blood, it doesn’t change what I see when I look at her.
Someone I shouldn’t want.
Someone I can’t stop wanting.
I press my fist against the tree trunk, the bark biting into my skin. Across the lawn, her laughter drifts to me again, bright and alive. It shreds me. It infuriates me.
Leon breaks the silence first. “What’s your plan?”
I drag in a breath through my nose as the tree barkstarts to draw blood. “She’s weak,” I mutter, the words jagged and raw in my throat. “Too weak.”
Leon shakes his head slowly, disappointment crossing his otherwise calm features. “You’re a fool.”
The words cut deeper than they should.
Of course he’d say that. He doesn’t understand. He never will.
Leon was once blessed and cursed with the rarest thing: finding his fated mate when he was still a boy. He loved her fiercely, even in their youth. And he lost her too soon, death stealing her before they could ever grow into what they were meant to be.
I don’t say anything as he turns and walks away, his broad shoulders fading into the crowd. He’s an orphan, with no long line of ancestors behind him, no family legacy that weighs like iron on his shoulders. He can’t grasp what it means to carry the Rowan name.
Every one of my sisters is as strong and unyielding as I am. Yet fate ties me to this. To her.
Shame burns hotter than the wine in my blood.
I exhale hard, pressing my palms against my eyes, trying to smother the fire in my chest. But when I lower my hands, a sharp realization strikes me like a lightning bolt.
I can’t see her anymore.
My muscles tense, my head snapping back and forth. The crowd on the dance floor whirls, skirts flaring, soldiers laughing—but Selene isn’t there. The spot she occupied before is empty.
My pulse spikes.
I scan the lawns, searching desperately—and then I see it. A flash of auburn hair, catching the firelight just before it disappears into the trees at the far edge of the celebration. She’s not alone. A man moves with her, his arm brushing hers as they slip into the shadows.
My blood boils, fury searing up my spine. The mate bond roars inside me, wild and frantic.
Before I even realize it, my body is racing toward them.
The trees close in around me, muting the music and laughter from the palace grounds until the only sounds are the crunch of leavesunder my boots and the thunder of my pulse in my ears. The scent of pine is sharp, but beneath it—her. Sweet, familiar, infuriating.
I slow down, my instincts sharpening. Voices filter through the darkness. A low murmur, followed by soft laughter. Hers.
I push forward, weaving through the forest by the filtered light of the moon.
And I see her.
Selene, pressed against the trunk of an oak tree, auburn hair mussed, lips swollen as a man I don’t recognize mouths at her neck. His hands grip her hips, sliding lower, and she tilts her head back, eyes half-lidded, breathy with enjoyment. There’s a faint flush in her cheeks, the telltale scent of wine clinging to her. Not drunk, not fully—but loose enough to make reckless choices.
“Darren,” she whispers, tugging him closer, pulling his mouth back to hers.
That’s what makes the decision for me.
My wolf erupts inside my head. I surge forward, grab the bastard by the back of his tunic, and hurl him sideways. His body smashes through branches with a loud crack and crashes hard into the undergrowth. He groans, stunned, crumpled in the dirt.
