Luna knows the scent of vampire—cold iron and ancient hunger—but Kael smells like rain-soaked earth and something darker. Something that makes her wolf whimper instead of snarl. She found him bleeding starlight into the forest floor, left for dead by her own kind, and every instinct screamed to finish what they started. Instead, she pressed her hands to his wounds. Now he watches her with eyes that have seen centuries collapse, and when his gaze drops to her throat, she doesn't flinch. She leans closer.
Her heat is coming. Pack law demands she submit to a mate chosen by her father—a wolf who will never know the forbidden places her mind wanders at night. But it's Kael's hands she imagines on her fevered skin. Kael's mouth. Kael's voice, rough as velvet, whispering promises that would get them both killed. He's immortal, bloodborn, everything her bloodline exists to destroy. And when he traces one cold finger along her jaw, she understands with terrifying clarity: she will burn her whole world down to feel him do it again.