The echoes of the pack's howls were still ringing in my ears long after the ceremony ended, the deafening approval hanging over me like a blanket, as if their voices alone could bind what had just been stamped in blood. The skin that had seared under Lucian's mark still burned, though the wound had knitted over; a reminder that I was not just Angel now—I was his.
I dreaded this moment since that thing started to drag from the shadows in my mind, and the moment had come and was going, but me standing beside him, surrounded by those warriors who now called me their Luna made me feel trapped than I ever was. This was no longer a negotiation, no longer a choice. It was reality.
Lucian had said little since marking me, and yet his presence taut at my back never faltered; his fingers ghosting
