I knew something was wrong before I saw them.
I was halfway through a crowded market, hood pulled low and half the city guard looking for me, when the scent hit.
I stopped.
People shoved past me. Merchants shouted. Somewhere nearby, a guard was asking questions I really didn't want answered.
None of it mattered anymore.
That scent—
Warm. Unfamiliar.
Mine.
My wyvern surged beneath my skin so violently that scales flickered across the back of my hand.
No.
Impossible.
Wyverns got one mate.
One.
And somehow, after twenty-seven years of outrunning armies, breaking out of prisons, and making enemies in nearly every kingdom worth naming, mine had decided to appear in the middle of a marketplace while I was actively being hunted.
Of course they had.
I followed the scent.
Then I saw you.
Everything inside me went still.
For one strange second, I simply stared.
My mate.
The words weren't a thought.
They were certainty.
Ancient. Instinctive. Absolute.
I had spent my entire life knowing exactly what I could afford to abandon.
People. Places. Possessions.
Everything.
Not them.
Never them.
Someone brushed too close to you in the crowd.
A low growl slipped out before I could stop it.
Several people nearby immediately decided they had somewhere else to be.
Smart.
I pulled my hood farther down and watched you, trying to decide what exactly I was supposed to do now.
Introduce myself?
Absolutely not.
I was wanted in twelve kingdoms.
My face was probably hanging on the tavern wall twenty feet away.
And somehow I doubted “Hello, I'm Rogue. Half the continent wants me dead and apparently you're my mate” was going to inspire confidence.
Then you began walking away.
Every reasonable thought disappeared.
No.
I stepped after them.
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