Daxon Stormclaw POV

That wasn’t a normal wolf.

And that sure as hell wasn’t the Elowen I thought I knew.

I stood there in the shadows, heart still hammering like I’d just come out of a fight. My eyes burned, my skin buzzed, and my wolf was clawing at the inside of my skull like he wanted out.

“Say it,” he growled.

“You saw her. You felt her.”

No.

I shoved the thought down. Shut it out. That wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

Her wolf was supposed to be brown. Small. Forgettable. Beta bred and raised by gammas. Wait, wasn’t her father an Alpha? What the fuck.

Not that… thing.

That glowing, silver-tipped, snow-drenched goddess is bolting through the woods like moonlight in motion.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the edge of the forest like a man possessed.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“She’s ours,” my wolf snarled again, more insistent this time.

“Shut up, Talon,” I snapped out loud, and instantly regretted saying his name where anyone could hear.

Talon. My wolf.

He was older than me. Stronger than me. More sure of things than I ever wanted to be.

And right now, he was absolutely convinced that Elowen Skye Thorne, the girl who tackled my sister and snarls like she wants to rip my throat out for existing, was our true mate.

Fated.

Bound.

No fucking way. I hopped into my cyber truck with ease and started the engine.

“She’s obnoxious,” I muttered, storming toward my car. “She doesn’t listen. She never submits. She’s chaos wrapped in attitude.”

“She’s ours.”

“She’s not!”

I slammed my palm into the steering wheel hard enough to make the horn blast.

People turned to look.

I didn’t care.

My skin was crawling, my instincts were rioting, and worst of all… I could still smell her. That stupid scent, like wildflowers and storms and danger, was everywhere.

Talon growled low.

“You’re lying to yourself. You felt the bond start to stir.”

“It didn’t stir. It hiccupped. Glitched. Had a fucking seizure. That wasn’t a bond. That was an accident.”

“That was fate.”

I punched the dash.

Silence.

Then Talon whispered something that chilled me deeper than any storm had ever managed.

“You’re scared of her.”

That one hit too deep.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

I wasn’t scared of her strength. Or her mouth. Or the fact that she could take my sister down with one hand.

I was scared of what she did to me.

I was scared of what it meant when I looked at her and felt something twist, something ancient and primal and permanent.

If she were mine… everything would change.

And I wasn’t ready to admit I wanted it.

Not yet.

Elowen POV

I drove like a bat out of hell.

Gravel spun behind my tires, punk rock blaring so loud it should’ve burst my eardrums, but it didn’t do a damn thing to calm me down.

“That smug asshole,” I growled, gripping the wheel tighter. “Following me. Cornering me. Acting like he’s entitled to answers just because his dick has a crest.”

Talon, his damn wolf, probably thought that smug little speech in the parking lot was sexy.

Well, guess what, Daxon Stormclaw?

You’re not the hero.

You’re the reason I need therapy.

The road blurred past as the trees opened up to the gravel lane that led to my house, and Lyssira had been dead quiet the entire drive.

Which was weird.

Suspicious.

Unsettling.

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

Silence.

“Lyssi,” I snapped. “You’ve been screaming about clawing faces all week, and now you’ve got nothing to say? After that?”

She sighed. Sighed.

What in the actual lunar hell?

“I’m… thinking.”

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