ADAM

The moment she stepped into the tent, everything else seemed to blur.

Sage.

Every inch of her commanded attention—the fluid grace of her movements, the way the light from the hovering crystals caught in her hair, spilling faint gold across her shoulders. The gown she wore was soft blue, shimmering like moonlight over water, and it clung to her curves as if it had been stitched onto her skin.

Every step she took was deliberate, confident, unhurried, yet every muscle in my body tightened as though I were standing before prey and temptation all at once.

My wolf stirred immediately.

Mine.

The word was quiet, dangerous, and primal—echoing deep...