She fights like a rabbit. Bleeds like prey. And… Smells like my mate. I should’ve gutted her. Instead, I drag her up the mountain and chain her to my hearth. Now every breath she takes is under my protection. Every herb she grinds… I smell. Every time she kneels to tend my wounds… I harden. She says it’s fear. I say it’s mating heat. But the clan hates her. The Shaman wants my child she carries purged. And if she doesn’t submit before the Rite of Iron— The boy dies. They forget I’ll burn this stronghold to the ash for her. They forget I’m not just tusked. I’m horned. She didn’t just wake the monsters in me. She made room for herself among them. Read on for feral claiming, secret heir stakes, healer-and-warlord bond, and a tusked beast who mates like the end of the world. HEA Guaranteed!