The heat consumed her.
Lori lay on her bed, her body trembling, her skin burning with a fire that no amount of cold water could extinguish. She had stripped down to a thin tank top and shorts, but the fabric felt like sandpaper against her overheated flesh.
Her wolf was howling.
“Call him,” Layla screamed, pacing frantically in Lori's mind. “Call our mate. We need him. We need—"
"No," Lori gasped, clutching the sheets. "No, I can't. We're not... he hasn't..."
“He is our mate! The goddess chose him!”
"The goddess chose him for me, but he hasn't chosen me back!" Lori's voice cracked. "He stood up to his family, but we're not official. We're just... getting to know each other."
Layla's response was a flash of images—Attia's hands on her face, his lips on hers, the way he had looked at
