GARRETT
I MAKE it about forty-eight hours before I'm practically crawling out of my own skin with the need to see my mate again.
The wolf will not rest.
He paces. He snarls. He howls. He wants her scent, her voice, her heartbeat here on our territory.
He wants to mark her. To claim her.
Even when I shift and run full-bore through the snow and ice, it doesn't help. The cold air cuts my lungs, but my blood stays hot, burning through me until my muscles tremble.
The mate bond will not be denied.
Wolves who reject their mates live in agony. Some go mad. Some don't make it at all.
I wonder if it makes it worse or better that I don't want to reject her. I want her and can't have her.
