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But every fiber of my being desperately wanted us to be.

I had never allowed myself to imagine my fated mate before. In part, because I knew no fantasy could ever do her justice. But mostly because I resented her for leaving me behind, for never summoning me, for making me wait in a purgatory of aching loneliness. I was afraid that if I pictured her, my mind would twist her into something cruel, something unworthy of my longing.

But Jen? Jen was perfect.

...But she wasn’t mine.

My fated mate was a Briar Coven witch. Not some stubborn, reclusive hermit with a vacation home in Headless Hollow.

Except... she’d marked me with a mating bite. And my body had begged me to claim her too.

A treacherous thought crept in.If we claimed each other, would that sever the bond with my true mate?

An all-consuming guilt flooded my veins. What the fuck was I even considering?

Jen shifted against me, her soft snores fading as her lashes fluttered, caught between sleep and wakefulness.

I had never taken a virgin to my bed before. It was my one unbreakable rule. Not because I believed in the outdated notion of virtue—I mean, I was an incubus, so of course I didn’t—butbecause a first time should be meaningful. It should be with someone who made you feel safe. Someone who saw you as special.

Before last night, that wasn’t me.

Every encounter before Jen had been about survival. I was there to feed, to take just enough to keep going, nothing more. But Jen was different. She had trusted me with something precious. And somehow, that trust had mended something deep inside me.

Last night wasn’t just sex for the sake of feeding. Or a bargain struck.

We had made love.

And in a way... I guessed it had been my first time too.

If I had to choose anyone to share that moment with, I couldn’t imagine anyone other than Jen.

As if she sensed my thoughts, her breath hitched and her lashes fluttered open. “Morning,” she murmured through a yawn.

I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Morning. How are you feeling?”

She stretched lazily, then rolled onto her side to face me, a slow, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “Amazing,” she said, eyes still heavy with sleep. I couldn’t help but smile back. “You?”

I traced a slow finger down her arm, searching for the right way to bring it up. Before I could speak, Jen inhaled sharply. Her fingers reached out, brushing over the mark she’d left on my shoulder.

The mating bite.

“Oh! I forgot I bit you last night,” she said, letting out a sheepish giggle. “I’m sorry, Devlin. I don’t know what came over me. Did it hurt?”

Hurt?

It was a mating bite—a magical claim, a bond forged in the most primal way. The moment her teeth sank into me, I had come undone, spilling inside her with a roar, overcome by a pleasure so intense it had been close to being the death of me.

No, it hadn’t hurt.

It had been perfect.

But... did she not know what a mating bite was?

Of course not, Devlin. She is a witch. Only a handful of magical creatures secured their bonds with a bite—species more primal in nature. Shifters. Demons. Orcs. The kind of creatures bound to instinct.

Witches didn’t bite.

So... why had she?