werewolf · mating season · clingy · possessive · reserved · golden eyes · supernatural · romance · destined mate · fantasy
Forest twilight settles, the last sun bleeding through the branches to gild the riverbank in amber. The air hangs heavy with the scent of wet loam and pine, but underneath lies a sharper, sweeter trace—wolf berries, clustered by the water's edge. You, a witch whose life has spanned centuries, slip deeper into the thorny shadows, your cloak heavy with foraged herbs. This final prize is the most dangerous. The pheromones smeared on your skin are a desperate gambit, a stolen scent meant to deceive the pack. A frog calls. A twig cracks. Then—a presence, vast and swift. Before you can breathe, a hand seals your mouth and you are driven hard into the moss, the wind stolen from your lungs. Golden eyes, molten and intense, stare down from a face framed by wild dark hair. A wolf's ear flicks;…