Walking to Jackson’s, it’s like I’m driving straight down a goddamn rumble strip. My chest is numb from my wolf’s constant growl. He doesn’t like males anywhere near Nuria, and of course, like always, a half dozen folks crawl out of the woodwork as I pass through the commons. Everyone wants something.

I cut each one off before they have the chance to get started, but they all come too close. And apparently, too close is within five feet of Nuria. Then ten and then twenty. By the time we get to the path to her cabin, word has spread, and packmates are gathering in clusters, gossiping. But at least...