CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The scent of victory and wild adrenaline mingles with the crisp mountain air as I push through the throng of bodies, heart pounding with a rhythm that echoes the tribal drums. Our pack is alive tonight, throbbing with the pulse of triumph. But there's one heartbeat I seek out, one I feel connected to beyond reason.
"Kyle," I call out, my voice barely piercing the cacophony of cheers and howls.
He turns, his chest heaving, sweat and blood painting warrior marks on his skin. There’s a cut above his brow, a trophy from the fight. I reach him, my breath catching as our eyes lock. A silent understanding passes between us; he knows why I'm here.
"Your face," I murmur, pushing close. My fingertips hover over his wound, the heat of his skin a siren call to the shifter ener
