The First Breath

ROMAN

I found her among a group of rogue women huddled at the edge of my territory. She stood out like a moonbeam in darkness—hair tangled, clothes torn, eyes wary but defiant. The second our gazes locked, something shifted inside me, tectonic and absolute. My wolf recognized her before my human side could process what was happening.

Mate.

I'd spent years hearing stories about the overwhelming rush of finding your fated one. How time slowed. How every sense sharpened. How nothing else mattered. The stories didn't do it justice.

Now she sat across from me in my family's secluded cabin, wrapped in a blanket, eyeing the steaming mug of tea I'd placed before her like it might be poisoned.

"It's just chamomile," I said, keeping my voice calm, non-threatening. "Good for nerves."

Her fingers—long, elegant despite the dirt beneath her nails—curled around the mug but didn't lift it.

"You have a name?" I asked.

She hesitated. "Ruby."