“Can you do that, Ronan? Your wolf is not with you,” Rhett asked, his voice rough but carrying a dark amusement.
Ronan smirked, tilting his head, his sharp canines flashing as though he was eager for the challenge. “Sure,” he replied with confidence. “I’ll mark her with my teeth. It doesn’t have to be my wolf.”
I bent my head slightly, my eyes darting toward the place where Rhett had already bitten me. The mark glistened strangely under the dim glow of the lantern in the room. It wasn’t just a bite—it pulsed faintly, almost shining, mocking me with the cruel reminder of what had been forced onto my skin.
Before I could shift away, Ronan climbed onto the bed with the same predator grace as his brother. My chest tightened. His weight sank into the mattress, and the air thickened, charged
