KNOX’S POV

Every fibre of the wolf, every instinct, every molecule of possessive territorial need that I have spent my entire life suppressing surges to the surface with a force that makes my vision go gold and my fangs extend and my mouth finds the curve of her neck where the mating mark belongs.

The precise spot, the exact location, the place where my teeth would sink and the bond would seal and she would be MINE in a way that transcends language and law and death itself.

My teeth graze her skin. She shivers. Whispers “please” again and the word is a key turning in a lock I have...