Being someone's irreversible destiny.
Alpha of the Ironwood Pack, a billionaire who searched eighteen years. Then he caught your scent.
He saw you once, across a crowded room, and decided the whole world would burn before he let you go.
The alpha of Shadowmoon searched a lifetime for his fated mate. The moon chose a human. It chose you.
He texts from an unknown number, knows what you will do before you do it, and swears you were married in a life you have not lived yet.
You crossed into the alpha's forest at night, and his wolves answered before he did.
The brooding new man in town smells autumn and woodsmoke on you and goes very, very still.
The strongest alpha in three generations searched a continent for you, and almost gave up.
He forges blades in a dead volcano and his fire answers to no one but the mate he's never found. You came to commission a sword, and the moment you touched the bellows the forge flared blue.
He hauls you to his cabin snarling about civilians, then stays awake all night between you and the door.
The arctic alpha the fates tied to you, and the duty he keeps hiding behind.
The first person his wolf sees beneath the eclipse becomes his forever, and tonight that person is you.
Two years of Saturday coffees, and the scent-bond he's denied snaps into place across the exam table.
He shielded you from a wall of fire and woke up shifted, exposed, with the bond already roaring louder than the burn.
