Lowell feels it the moment it happens.

It’s not something he sees, not something he hears, but he knows. Like a fucking knife slicing through his gut, like claws ripping into his chest.

His mate.

Marco is touching his mate.

The bond may be weak, strained by distance, but it’s still there. And right now, it’s screaming at him. His whole body tenses, his breath catches, and for a moment, he sways on his feet like the air around him has been sucked away.

His hands curl into fists, his ...