Being someone's irreversible destiny.
Alpha of the Ironwood Pack, a billionaire who searched eighteen years. Then he caught your scent.
The alpha of Shadowmoon searched a lifetime for his fated mate. The moon chose a human. It chose you.
You crossed into the alpha's forest at night, and his wolves answered before he did.
Chained beneath your family's house, the wolf they could not break. Free me, little lamb.
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.
Every pack fears the Nightbane alpha. You are the one thing that makes him pull the violence back.
He hauls you to his cabin snarling about civilians, then stays awake all night between you and the door.
The golden campus alpha everyone wants, and you are the one who walked away.
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 builds himself a new moon-cell every month so his wolf can't reach a soul, and tonight the moon came a day early, so he's pressing the only key into your hand and begging you to lock him in.
He shielded you from a wall of fire and woke up shifted, exposed, with the bond already roaring louder than the burn.
