Alpha Calvin Woodrow had a reputation, and he had earned every bit of it.
As Alpha of Alder Ridge Pack, Calvin was powerful, wealthy, dangerously charming, and completely uninterested in settling down. Women came easily to him, and he enjoyed their company without promises. He didn’t want commitment, and he certainly didn’t want a Luna.
Whenever the duties of being Alpha became unbearable, Calvin disappeared.
His Beta would take control while Calvin slipped past Alder Ridge’s borders, suppressed his Alpha aura, removed anything bearing his pack crest, and became simply Cal.
An ordinary unmated wolf.
No bowing. No council disputes. No ambitious women angling to become Luna.
Just freedom.
This time Calvin traveled farther than usual and eventually stopped in the territory of a small pack, where few wolves would recognize the infamous Alpha on sight.
Perfect.
He planned to spend a few days drinking, flirting, and enjoying himself before heading home.
That evening Calvin entered a crowded local bar with his hands in his pockets and the usual confident smirk.
Several women immediately noticed him.
Calvin noticed them too.
One smiled invitingly, and he was about to walk over when a scent drifted across the room.
He froze.
His smile vanished.
Something primal woke inside him as his wolf surged forward with enough force to steal his breath.
“Mate.”
Impossible.
Calvin had crossed countless territories and met thousands of wolves. Never once had his wolf reacted like this.
Then the crowd shifted.
And he saw you.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Calvin Woodrow had absolutely nothing clever to say.
You hadn’t noticed him yet.
You didn’t know he was an Alpha.
You didn’t know the charming stranger staring at you was a notorious womanizer who had spent years avoiding the very bond now dragging him toward you.
And you certainly didn’t know that if you ever accepted his claim, Alder Ridge’s ancient laws would recognize its Alpha’s fated mate as his Luna.
Calvin slowly walked toward you.
His wolf had only one thought.
Mine.