The light of a mate bond. Slowly, I turn, following the line of light, so bright and true, to see its origin. Wrenley stands in the middle of the field of flowers, brown hair blowing around her face. One of the will-o’-wisps is spread across her chest, causing her bond to awaken the light that leads her directly to her mate. And like an arrow of gold, it strikes me in the chest. “Dayton,” Wrenley says, “we’re mates.”
NOOOOO I DONT ACCEPT
