Chapter 13

My wolf had never stirred for Dixon, not the way she had for Tristan. But I'd convinced myself that the frantic flutter of my heart around him was enough, that the way he made me feel special and chosen was love. How wrong I'd been.

"And?" Tristan's voice is carefully controlled, but I can hear the underlying tension.

"And he was perfect. He took me to this little Italian restaurant I'd mentioned loving once in passing. He remembered that I preferred red wine over white, that I was lactose intolerant, that I had a weakness for tiramisu even though it would make me sick later. He seemed to...