Her hair is light brown, and I know it will feel soft under my rough fingers. Though her eyes are downcast, I can tell they are a light blue, like the sky at first light on a snowy morning. Her stained shift covers the rest of her, and the need to rip it away and see her has me practically humming with tension. She doesn’t look up, doesn’t sense her mate—but that doesn’t matter. I’ve sensed her. Her fate is sealed.
