I know immediately when I see him.
This all-consuming feeling can only mean one thing.
Roman Dixon is my mate.
I have no shifter inside me, but I know.
He's mine and I'm his.
I know all about mates because my brother is one too.
A brother who Roman knows.
Not only knows, but hates.
They're mortal enemies.
And if I can't keep their bears from killing each other...
I'll have nothing left.
No mate. No family. No reason to live.
Why do men have to be so damn stubborn?