The palace gates loomed over Abigail, cold and imposing against the morning sky. She gripped the strap of her satchel tightly, steeling herself as two guards stepped forward, blocking her path.
“Halt,” one of them barked, his gaze scanning her from head to toe. His lips twisted in disdain. “What are you supposed to be?”
“A healer,” Abigail replied, keeping her voice steady. “I’ve been summoned by the council.” She reached into her satchel and held up the royal summons, the King’s crest glinting in the sunlight.
The second guard, younger but just as smug, leaned forward with a mocking smile. “This? This pup is here to heal the King? You’re kidding.”
“I’m not a pup,” Abigail snapped, her green eyes flashing.
The older guard snorted. “You don’t look like much. Where’s the rest of your pack? Surely they didn’t send you alone to save our Alpha?”
Abigail clenched her fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “I was sent because I’m capable. Now are you going to let me through, or do you want to explain to your King why you turned away a healer he specifically requested?”
The guards exchanged a look, and the younger one laughed, shaking his head. “She’s got a mouth on her, I’ll give her that.”
But before either could respond, a sound rumbled through the air—low and guttural, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Abigail froze as the roar grew louder, echoing from deep within the palace.
“What the—” the younger guard started, but he didn’t get to finish.
The palace doors burst open with a deafening crash, splintering wood flying in every direction. Abigail’s heart leapt into her throat as a massive wolf—black as night, with glowing golden eyes—stormed through the gates.
“Move!” the older guard yelled, shoving Abigail behind him.
But Abigail couldn’t look away. The wolf was enormous, twice the size of any she had seen before, its fur bristling with fury. Its growls sent vibrations through the air, its eyes wild and untamed. This wasn’t just any wolf.
This was the Alpha King.
Callan’s wolf bared its teeth, his gaze scanning the courtyard as though searching for something—or someone. The guards fell to their knees, heads bowed in submission.
“Abigail, get back!” one of them hissed.
But she didn’t move. Her feet were rooted to the ground, her chest tight as the wolf’s golden eyes locked onto hers.
Time seemed to stop. The air shifted, heavy and electric, as something ancient and primal snapped into place. Abigail gasped, her heart racing.
The bond.
Callan’s wolf froze, his growls faltering. For a moment, the beast’s wild rage ebbed, replaced by a strange stillness. His glowing eyes softened, narrowing as he took a step closer to her.
“Abigail,” one of the guards whispered urgently. “What are you doing? Run!”
She didn’t. She couldn’t.
Her hand instinctively lifted, as though some invisible force was pulling her closer to the massive wolf. Her green eyes met his golden ones, and in that instant, she felt it—a pull so strong it nearly took her breath away.
“Mate,” she whispered, the word slipping from her lips before she could stop it.
The wolf let out a low rumble, its body shuddering. Abigail watched, wide-eyed, as Callan began to shift. His fur receded, his form shrinking and twisting until he stood before her, tall and human once more.
The King’s golden eyes never left hers, even as his chest heaved from the effort of the transformation. His dark hair was disheveled, his skin slick with sweat, but his presence was no less commanding.
“You,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine.”
“What?”