That had been this morning. Now, hours later, sitting in the car heading toward the pack gathering, I touched the mark on my neck. The silver crescents were still tender, still tingling with residual warmth from the bite—and from everything that had followed.
And tonight, everyone would be looking.
"You're nervous," Damien said from the driver's seat. We were heading deep into Blackwood territory, where the pack would gather for the full moon.
"I'm terrified," I corrected. "I'm about to meet your entire pack as their new Luna. A human Luna. With zero werewolf credentials except for the bite mark on my neck."
"You have more than that." His hand found mine. "You have me. And that's all that matters."
"Does it? Because from what you've told me, there are some pretty traditional wolves in the council. Wolves who think humans are weak."
"Then you'll prove them wrong." He brought my hand to his lips. "Like you always do."
