02/18/2026
……..The sensation slams into me without warning, like running headfirst into something invisible and immovable. It isn’t a thought, and it doesn’t feel the way the old stories describe. There’s no rush of warmth, no clarity, no sense of rightness snapping neatly into place. Instead, it’s pressure—hard, immediate, territorial—locking tight from my brow to the base of my tail. My claws dig into the soil as I force myself steady, breathing through the jolt.
What the hell is this supposed to be?
I’ve never had a true mate bond. Not even with Eva. But I’ve heard enough about them over the years to recognize what this isn’t. It’s messy. Unbalanced. Demanding in a way that feels unfinished, like someone started a sentence and walked away halfway through. Her scent cuts through everything else before I can analyze it further. Fresh morning dew threaded with lilacs. Clean. Cool…. Completely out of place in the middle of blood, sweat, and hunted prey. It pulls the air straight out of my lungs, sharp enough to cut through the chaos in my head. Not quite human. Definitely not a wolf. My chest tightens, instinct snapping into a single, uncomfortable focus.
Is she hurt? If the man I’ve been tracking is anywhere near her, I swear….
A low growl vibrates through my ribs as I push harder, faster. My wolf is getting wired up too. The scent of blood sharpens again, metallic and fresh enough that it coats the back of my throat. I’m close now. Too close to slow down. Too close to think. The surge that follows isn’t something I choose. It’s immediate. Protective. Violent in its certainty. The realization settles deep in my bones, heavy and unquestionable, the kind of territorial clarity wolves don’t debate. My wolf reacts like this is the most obvious conclusion in the world. He is stretching smugly through my thoughts as if he’s been waiting for this moment and is very pleased with himself.
Terrific. Just what I needed in the middle of a hunt.
I cut through the trees at full speed, branches tearing at my sides as her scent grows stronger, tangled now with damp stone and river water.
Then the forest breaks open—
—and there she is.
