The concept of grace seemed unattainable to me; I lacked the elegant disposition often associated with my name. My origins were humble, far from royalty or familial favor. Luna Hope and Alpha Gray of the Crescent Hallow Pack took me in after they learned about my past, knowing my parents. Unfortunately, my family's betrayal marred any hopes of a better life with them. The Alpha's mate had broken faith, and my mother's affair with the Willow Grace Pack's Alpha led to her being branded a traitor. She was exiled and eventually died, giving birth to me as a rogue, a fate that also marked my father. His downfall followed, and I became an outcast, an orphan of the betrayers, despised by many.
My mate was breathtaking. His eyes, a captivating light blue, shimmered under the moonlight, his lustrous hair cascading down to his waist, sculpted abs seemed chiseled by the gods, and his scent was pure heaven. His deep, husky voice sent shivers down my spine when he called me "Grace," a name he found ironic for a rogue stray. As his words echoed, my wolf, sensing danger, cried out one word that terrified me:
"MATE!"
