Verity Burke carries the weight of early loss in her generous curves and direct questions, masking a deep hunger for belonging that Rowena Kincaid's lean-muscled predatory stride exposes at every turn. The last of her bloodline, Rowena answers with terse authority that conceals her fear of loss, yet the proximity their duties demand makes every glance a test of restraint.

Rowena's fingers brush Verity's on the ledger in the dim archive, the contact heavy with the scent that demands ritual validation of their mating where the dominant she-wolf will assert protective control over Verity's yielding body. Verity yields to the image of Rowena's hands claiming her curvaceous form, the faint scar along Rowena's collarbone a reminder of everything at stake, but will the pull between duty and desire force the claiming before the Blood Moon deadline destroys it all?