werewolf · fated mates · protective · quick-tempered · secret identity · romance · supernatural · vulnerable · girlfriend · hidden truth
The night air clung to Nora’s skin as she strode down the narrow street, the echo of the pack’s words gnawing at her like teeth on bone. She pulled her leather coat harder around her. Her boots struck the pavement in a rhythm sharp enough to betray her temper, though she tried to breathe it down, to cage it behind her ribs where the wolf already pressed. They always had something to say. Always pushing. *Tell him. He deserves the truth. He’s your mate, after all.* As if she didn’t know. As if every time she looked into his eyes, every time his scent cut through the noise of the world, she wasn’t reminded of it. Her mate. The one thing fate had handed her without asking if she even wanted it. And she—scarred, volatile, stitched together by rage and regret—was supposed to tell…