Chapter 4

The Lycan King's eyes burn into mine, golden and ancient and absolutely certain. My wolf claws her way through the chemical fog, stronger than she's been in months, screaming a single word: Mate.

But that's impossible. Justin is my mate. The one who wrote me those letters. The one I chose.

Except the scent rolling off the King—pine and winter rain, crisp and clean—makes every cell in my body sing. Makes my wolf howl with recognition. Makes the bread turn to ash in my mouth.

"What are you doing on the floor?" His voice is low, dangerous, vibrating with barely…