But Mack’s bite is different. I touch him often. The faint, slightly ridged marks remind me I’m his, and he’s mine. It grounds me. Or it did until now. “The bond between fated mates will always be stronger.”

“So we ignore it?”

I lower my hand from my neck. “I don’t want to ignore it.” “Neither do I.”

Although another silence falls between us, Mack doesn’t rush to fill it with a thousand empty platitudes or reassurances. He knows me well enough to know it won’t change ...