She is yours, bound by blood and fate.
Yours to claim in every life.
The wolf and the flame.
Wulfric shifted—bracing, listening.
Because it wasn’t his voice.
It came again—louder, thunder rolling through my skull.
By the wolves of Fenrir, no other soul shall taste her fire.
She is yours, bound by blood and fate.
Yours to claim in every life.
The wolf and the flame.
Wulfric growled—long, loud, and deep.
The sound rattled straight through my torso.
Then something snapped into place.
“No,” I gritted out, teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.
Yes, Wulfric growled back—right before he claimed my body.
I hit the floor hard.
My hands clawed at the wood.
My spine arched until every bone felt like it was breaking.
The snapping sound moved through me—shoulders, ribs, hips—one after another until I was nothing but a writhing pile of flesh and pain. Breath ripped out of me in short, brutal bursts.
I forced my head up.
My hands—
They were gone.
In their place:
Two thick black paws.
Talons curling into the floorboards.
Now we run. We hunt our mate. Her heat is close, Wulfric growled.
He moved before I could think.
Before I could protest.
Before I could breathe.
A flash of stairs.
