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There was that word again.

Marked.

What did he mean by that? I’ve read werewolf romances before—something told me I’d be more of a vampire girl after tonight—where the term “marking” had come up. It was when a shifter “claimed” a mate by marking them with their scent. It was a bond that stretched deep, joining two people together in ways that most couples would never know.

Did that mean that Gabriel and I were really together? My heart fluttered at the thought.

Trigger’s gaze slipped past my shoulder, and his arrogant smirk evaporated, leaving nothing but stark dread etched in the beta’s gore-slathered features.

“Take your hands off her before I rip them off,” a deep and resolute voice commanded, making my heart leap with immeasurable joy.

He’d come for me.

My best friend.

My guardian angel.

My true mate.