The owls screeching grated his nerves. He paused long enough to wipe the sweat off his brow. Changing was always bad, but this moon seemed worse than others. The elders called it a two-moon night. A once a century event.

The humid night’s air was stale and cloying as his canines popped from his gums. His gut twisted as he ripped his clothes from his body desperate for air and cooling relief. His skin felt alive and so itchy he wanted to tear it from his body.

A howl barreled from his lungs burning until freed, legs gnarled and snapped as the painful transformation began.

Sebastian thought it couldn’t get any worse—he was wrong. Her scent hit him and his wolf attuned to her location.

His mate—the one prophesized about. The human that didn’t even know his kind existed.

Shit was about to hit the fans, and there was nothing he could do to stop it!