Kyra's POV
I woke up nestled against Kieran's bare chest, his Alpha scent of cedar and musk wrapping around me like a possessive embrace.
"Our mate holds us close," Sylvia, my wolf, purred contentedly in my mind. His arm rested heavily on my waist, his palm pressed against my belly beneath the thin fabric of his shirt that I wore.
My cheeks burned as last night's memories flooded back—the way his hands had grazed my skin, the growls vibrating against my body when he claimed me, the way my wolf had howled in pleasure when he finally took me as his mate.
"He marked us in every way but one," Sylvia murmured, her voice thick with longing. The claiming bite—the final seal of a werewolf bond—still lingered between us, unfulfilled.
