Grace POV

'Mate.'

The word echoes in my head, foreign and impossible.

I freeze, hand still buried in Ethan's fur. Whose voice was that? Not mine. Not Ethan's. But I'm marked—Damien's bite is still on my neck, five years old and permanent.

How can anyone else be my mate?

Before I can process it, Ethan shifts.

Fur melts into skin. The massive wolf shrinks, bones cracking and reforming until a man kneels before me instead. Naked. Very ...