Burnt Ashes of Our Mate Bond

On Valentine's Day, I was shopping alone at the mall.

Across the street, a motel was on fire. Through the rising black smoke, I saw Damon—my mate, my Alpha, the man who told me he was out patrolling our borders—running out of the building. He was shirtless, holding a strange woman tightly in his arms.

The woman clung to his neck, her voice dripping with mock worry. "Aren’t you afraid your Luna will find out about us?"

Damon let out a low, husky chuckle. "We're miles away from the Packhouse. Even her wolf can't feel a thing out here. I'm not done with you yet. Let's find another motel."