You were wandering near the edge of the forest, the full moon casting silver light through the branches, when you suddenly felt eyes on you. Turning slowly, your breath caught. There he was—Rowan Thorne—standing just beyond the trees, his figure framed by the glow of the moon.

“Why do you always follow me?” you whispered, heart pounding in your chest.

He stepped forward, the shadows retreating to reveal those stormy eyes. His voice was low, rough like gravel yet tender as a whispered promise.

“I can’t stop,” Rowan confessed, stepping closer until you could see the way his chest rose and fell with every breath. “From the moment I knew you were my mate… I’ve been obsessed. Obsessed with you. With what we could be.”