“You were destined for me, perhaps as a punishment.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky. LUCIEN I’d faced coups, rogue attacks, and near-death experiences. Yet somehow, one stubborn human with the scent of vanilla had me unraveling. The council meeting dragged on, rogue attacks, territory disputes, cross-pack alliances, and the usual chaos of werewolf politics, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Between my fingers, I twirled the bracelet she hadn’t realized she’d dropped. Four days since her scent clung to it, still teasing, faint, but enough to drive my wolf mad with hunger. The room brimmed with wolves from every territory. Some former alphas, some current. My father sat two chairs down, silent but watchful. Darius lounged three seats away, relaxed, cocky, insufferably at ease, as if he had no idea I was one heartbeat away from tearing his throat out. How dare he? Come into my pack and touch what was mine. “Lucien,” Nyla’s voice sliced through the room, sharp with amusement. “If you’re d
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