His response came back low and graveled. "Raven. These past five years, I've been nothing but a hollow shell. The moment I caught your scent again—that's when my wolf finally woke."
Soft sounds of movement. The whisper of clothing being shed.
"What about Lyra?" Raven's tone grew sharp. "Didn't you swear she would always be your bonded mate?"
"If her sire hadn't died protecting her—if she hadn't been so determined to drag you before the Pack Tribunal—I would have rejected the bond years ago."
"Hush, my Alpha. Don't waste breath on tedious matters." Her voice dropped to barely a murmur. "Tonight, I'm going to claim every inch of you until you forget your own name..."
The sounds merged into something indistinct. Then darkness consumed me entirely.
When awareness sparked again, chaos swirled around me.
"She's bleeding internally—we need the pack healers immediately! Someone find her bonded mate!"
A healer's assistant retrieved the crystal from my torn clothing, searched through my magical contacts, and activated the first connection.
It hummed. And hummed. And hummed.
Finally, he answered.
"This is the territory healing den. Are you the bonded mate of Lady Ashvale?"