My eyes burn with anger and jealousy as I glare at the lady, who has her hands all over my mate. Yes, my mate. Reagan was mine, and even my wolf is accepting that fact fully. I can hear her howl of joy in my head, her tail wagging about with her tongue out as she pants.
Mate. I feel that word reverberates through my body like a drug before settling in my heart. My wolf craves a better look at her mate, and she does, through my eyes, causing it to glow what I presume a bright blue. But she snarls in jealousy at the female who has her paws over him, frozen in shock.
It's funny how a tinge of jealousy is just what I needed to realize Reagan was right. I was his, and he, mine. Brad's rejection must have really messed me up to not know this fact soon enough. But now that my bond with him was
