Evander's POV
Her teeth sank into me.
It wasn't just a bite. It was fire. A shockwave. A brand searing down my neck into my chest, as if she'd sunk them straight into my heart instead of my skin.
And worse? I bled for her.
My blood on her tongue. My wolf howled, triumphant, wild, clawing inside me as though the bite meant something sacred, something permanent. Ours. She's ours. Claim her. Bite her back.
A sound ripped out of my throat that wasn't human. It was deep, guttural, savage—the sound of my wolf breaking through. My body froze, rigid with the force of instinct flooding me, demanding I answer her rebellion with my own. To pin her, to bite her, to mark her so deeply the world would never question it again.
She bit harder.
The pain didn't stop me. The taste of my own blood on her lips didn't stop me. No, it sent my wolf into a frenzy. She accepts us. She fights us. She bleeds us. Take her. Mark her. Make her—
"Enough."
