CAMILLE'S POV

His hands reached for mine. This time, I didn't fight him. I let his hand touch mine. His palm was warm. I could feel his callouses graze my skin. It made the contact raw.

"It's alright," he assured me. "Whoever your ancestor was, you aren't him. I'm sure you are a good person."

That was the thing, though. I wasn't a good person. I ran away from this life out of fear of what would happen if my pack got to know I was like my grandmother. I hid the identity of their father from my ...