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Tonight—our first Mating Day—I had said yes. I had agreed that Rowan and I would finally sleep together. I shoved open the door to his room, expecting him exactly as I’d pictured him: bare skin, heat, and that cocky, beautiful confidence. I got the first part. Rowan was naked. So was the woman on top of him. Zuri. My younger half sister. "What the—" The words died as my body locked up in the doorway. Zuri sat astride him, turned so she could look straight at me. The second she noticed me, her mouth curled into a satisfied little smile. She let out a moan on purpose, then bent down and bit at Rowan’s neck like she’d been waiting her whole life for an audience. "Oh, yes," she breathed, lips near his ear. "Just like that." Rowan let out a rough sound and shifted, lifting her with hands that didn’t hesitate. In one practiced motion, he rolled them so he was over her instead. My stomach lurched so hard I tasted bile. Then his gaze snapped to mine. He went still. "Adeline," he exhaled. Guilt flickered across his face—quick, almost startled—yet his palms stayed planted on Zuri’s hips. For a beat, the room held its breath. "Zuri and I just found out we’re fated mates." His voice landed like a hammer blow. Fated mates. On Mating Days, any werewolf over nineteen could catch the scent and know. Not guess. Not hope. Know. And once that recognition hit, the pull was supposed to be impossible to deny. Fated pairs could set each other off from a distance—heat sparked by nothing more than a breath of the other on the wind. When they finally found each other, they would mate and mark, creating a bond knotted tight with desire and permanence—something that lasted until the end of their lives. There was only one real defense: mark your chosen mate before you ever ran into your fated one. That was the plan Rowan and I had made. Tonight. Because I’d never expected to have a fated mate at all. My wolf had always been…silent. When everyone else shifted for the first time,
