Isabella puts her hand over mine on the coil of rope, and I feel the first crack in my control. She holds herself back from the pull between us, her kin ties severed and her heart guarded, yet that only sharpens the command rising in my chest.

My bloodline demands an heir, the rival threatens everything we guard for the orphan, but none of that stops the vision of her body yielding to mine on the longhouse furs. Isabella's stubborn isolation only makes the primal need to breed her more urgent on this salt-sprayed shore. The jagged scar reminds me of every loss, yet I will fill her again and again until the seed takes and our bond becomes unbreakable.

The rival will not wait, and neither will I.