Bonus scenes, epilogues and more...
BREAK ME KNOT Cole after he scared Mira away after helping her release her rage in the gym. Cole She runs from me, and everything in my chest hollows out. I could chase her, but that’s a pattern I don’t dare repeat; I’m always one second too late, always the bringer of anchors and not rescue. The moment her footsteps fade down the hall and the bathroom door snicks shut, all the air goes stiff—like the wrong move will shatter both of us. The phantom taste of Mira’s mouth lingers on my lips. Her scent is wildfire now, sweet and feral, storming down the length of the corridor, crushing me under waves of need and shame. I press my back to the cool wall outside the bathroom, trying to make sense of the tangled agony her scent calls up in my veins. I want her. Body, soul, tangled up in the nest she calls safety. But the guilt—my heavy, familiar shadow—rises up. My ribs tighten, remembering the way her mouth trembled against mine. How right it felt—how easy it would be, if I were a man made for happy endings. I hear the snick of the lock, the soft scrape of skin on tile inside. I can barely hear her breathing, but the pain woven through the air is raw. Thick enough to choke on, aching to be touched. Gods, what have I done? She thinks I don’t want her. Of all the cut-glass misunderstandings, that’s the cruelest joke—she thinks I don’t want her when wanting her burns through my bones, hollows out my resolve, makes me rethink every oath to keep my distance. She wants to believe she’s poison, when all this time, it's me, corroded by history and old wounds so deep nothing can scrub them clean. The old lie tries to wriggle in: maybe she’d be safer if I just left. If I cut out my part of the equation, let her build something softer with Adrian and Zane. But when she’s hurting, my mind can’t process any solution that doesn’t end with me at her side. Her voice, thin as moth-wings, spills through the crack beneath the door. The words break me open. She blames herself. She thinks I can’t stand to be in the same room during her heat, that I recoil from her, that I find her repulsive. Fuck, it feels like my insides are splitting. I knock, barely trusting my voice. “Mira?” It comes out raw, strangled. I don’t even try to filter the truth. “Let me in.” Every fiber of my being screams to rip the door from its hinges—to gather her up, wrap her in every apology my mouth is too slow to voice. My restraint is worn through, threadbare. “You’re far from fine,” I say, my palm pressed flat to the door like it’s the only thing holding either of us upright. “I can smell your pain.” But hers is matched by the scent I know is pouring off my own skin—a cocktail of arousal and guilt and something blackened by the past. And it hits me, with the kind of clarity that only comes after you’ve ruined the thing you most wanted: I did this. I am the reason she feels abandoned, undesired, disposable. Her words are daggers. “You wouldn't even be near me during my heat. That's the biggest tell of all.” It’s all I can do to keep breathing. I slide down the wood and sit, back to the door, head in my hands. All my careful distance, every step back and half-formed excuse, all my self-flagellating attempts at wisdom—they led her to believe she was unlovable. That’s my legacy. That’s all I’ve left her. I don’t want to lie any more. Not to her. Not to myself. So I start to talk. About Lily, about youth and arrogance, about blood that never washes out. I empty the heartbreak I’ve been hoarding in the tight spaces of my chest. Each word is a confession—as ugly as it is overdue. The pain in her voice as she talks about her own loss knots my guts. The way she keeps her secrets, tries so hard to hold everything inside. I want to crawl through the gap under the door, gather her close, and shoulder half the weight she grinds her teeth against. But all I can do is let silence stretch between us, layering confession atop confession, and hope that she can find room inside those words for someone as broken as me. Then, at last, I try to give her something back—a part of her past, restored. Something fragile but whole. Something that lets her know: I see you. I value you. I want you, and not in spite of your scars. When she finally lets us in, I ache at how much I want to deserve it, how much I want her trust. The ache isn’t punishment anymore. It’s hope. Everything I thought I understood about protection—about distance being a gift, my absence a kindness—shatters in that hallway outside her door. I see now, with brutal clarity, that I was wrong. I let my old wounds leak all over her, never imagining she’d mistake them for disgust. My love for her has always been hunger, not revulsion. It’s worship. It’s desperate, terrified awe. If she asks me to stay, I will. If she demands I leave, I’ll go—and finally, I’ll know it was my cowardice, my distance, that cost me this. This moment. This chance to hold her and be whole. But for the first time, as I cross to her side, I know what I want. And this time, I won’t run. I don’t know what I expect when Mira finally looks at me, eyes red and shining with pain, but I know I haven’t earned her forgiveness. My chest aches as she says my name, her voice trembling, hope and fear woven together so tight I can barely breathe through it. She reaches out. “Please, Cole. Will you stay?” The world thins to a thread. For so long I’ve turned away from this—her, the chance for something pure, the possibility of forgiveness. My feet move before my brain catches up, every step forward scraping against years of self-imposed exile, of believing the only kindness I could offer was my absence. But all it takes is the look in her eyes, open and wounded and wanting, and I know how wrong I’ve been. Every excuse, every apology, every act of “protection” was just fear in disguise. The greatest wound I gave wasn’t distance—it was making her believe she was unwanted. Her scent is a tidal wave as I reach the nest. Not just her heat—though that is there, scorching-sweet and hungry—but the smell of her trust, her yearning, the fact that she’s willing to let me close after everything. My hands shake with the force of wanting, the burn of regret. I climb in, careful, feeling the tremor run through her. I pattern my breathing to hers. Leather and pine from me, spun sugar and lilac from her—guilt and longing and hope knotting together in the air. This is the smell of everything I feared and everything I need. My voice comes out ragged. “Sweetness.” I can barely meet her eyes. “I don’t deserve—” Her hand finds mine, grounding me. “You do. We all do.” Each word brands itself into me. My walls—the ones I built up to keep her out, to keep the past from repeating—start to crumble. I let them. Mira centers me in the way her scent seeps into my lungs, promising that brokenness is not a reason for exile but a reason to be held closer. Thank you, I try to say, but what comes out is just, “There’s only one thing that’s ever eased this guilt. You.” It’s the truest thing I’ve ever said. The ache of longing, the slow burn of forgiveness—it’s all Mira. She doesn’t fix me, and gods, that is the miracle. She just accepts. Lets me be all the things I am and all the things I’m afraid I’ll always be. Her kiss is a benediction and a brand. Soft lips, warm breath, and the taste of hope after too much sorrow. My wolf quiets, curled around her in gratitude. For the first time since Lily, I know I am not broken in a way that cannot be loved. I see how stupid I have been—keeping myself outside the circle, pretending it made her safer when it only made us all incomplete. Her scent is sanctuary. Her forgiveness, a kind of salvation.
****************************** CHAIN ME KNOT I stop just inside the bedroom, toes curling into the soft, cream rug, and let the hush of the ocean lull me. Sunlight pours through the gauzy curtains, painting everything golden, and the light breeze carries salt and summer through the open window. I can hear seagulls crying over the dunes and the distant shouts of my pack on the beach. I never imagined my life could be this—quiet, safe, full. Not even in my wildest, most desperate dreams. The bed is a glorious chaos of comfort and color. Crisp white sheets, layers of blankets in sea blues and daffodil yellow, way too many pillows that spill over the edge like a surrendered barricade. My old, battered book sits on top, right next to Soren’s t-shirt and Phoenix’s faded army scarf and Asher’s worn paperback of poetry, all tucked into my little kingdom of softness. This isn’t a nest. It’s everything I never thought I could choose. Footsteps creak along the wood floor. Soren appears first, his unruly hair windblown from the beach, freckles scattered over his nose, blue eyes lighting up the second he sees me. “If you’re hiding the good coffee in here again, Em, I will find it.” I laugh—really laugh; I never realized I could have this much laughter in me. “Only if you pass the password.” “What password?” “’Emma is the queen of this bed-fortress’,” I tease, all warmth and fondness. He grins, easy and bright, and crosses the room to ruffle my hair. “You’re ridiculous. Lucky for you, I like ridiculous.” Phoenix storms in behind him, already shedding sand, mouth full of complaints. “I just dried off. I’m not getting in if there’s sand in there, Em—oh.” He stops dead, staring at my creation. His voice drops to something quieter, almost reverent. “Did you do all of this?” “Not a nest,” I say, chin high. “No more nests on the floor. No more hiding. I want you all up here, with me.” His gaze softens. “You surprise me every day, you know that?” Asher comes in last, his arms full—coffee, a plate of pastries, a fresh-cut flower from the backyard in a jelly jar. He slides everything onto my nightstand, his smile going all crinkly at the corners. “You’ve officially become a menace, Em. Phoenix almost tripped over a beach chair in the rush to get here.” “I just didn’t want to be last,” Phoenix grumbles, but he’s already circling the bed, eyes wide, hands twitching to tug at the blankets. I stretch out right in the middle, arms thrown wide, feeling the old echo of uncertainty vanish with a breath. The boys pile in—awkward at first, knocking knees and shoulders, all of them trying too hard not to ruin my arrangement. Soren tries to negotiate for “pillow hierarchy,” Asher adjusts things until my feet are perfectly warm, and Phoenix, predictably, ends up half off the bed, grinning like a fool. And me—my heart is so full it almost aches. I nestle in, wrapped in my favorite yellow throw, in the middle of all this love and noise, and all I can think is this: I never thought I’d make it here. Never thought I’d be happy like this. I went so long just surviving, hiding, protecting what I could. Now I’m building something that belongs to me. To us. Soren kisses my temple, grounding and warm. Phoenix scoops my legs over his lap, his grip gentle and fiercely protective. Asher nudges a pastry toward my mouth and murmurs, “You made this, Em. All of it.” I find myself laughing, almost teary with it. “I think I have everything I ever hoped for.” Almost everything. My happiness spikes with a flicker of guilt—a shadow at the very edge. Thoughts of Leah slip through, a tiny ache I can’t quite heal. I have Mira, thank god. She’s here, found at last, as stubborn and brave as ever, already texting me memes and setting up movie night in the den. But Leah is out there, her fate uncertain, the last friend I can’t reach. I wish—god, I wish—I could truly let myself be whole without knowing she’s safe, too. Soren must read it in my eyes. He drapes an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me close. Phoenix’s hands still at my ankle. Asher, watching quietly, offers up the flower, like he can fix my worry with yellow petals. “She’ll be okay,” he whispers. “You got Mira home. We’ll find Leah too.” I nod, pressing my nose to Asher’s shoulder, letting comfort settle in despite the ache. The happiness I have—the love, the laughter, the peace—I’ll save a place for her, always. For now, though, I burrow deeper, stretching to fill every inch of space. “All right. Who wants to see if Soren can actually survive my pillow empire? Winner gets the biggest snuggle.” Phoenix bellows a challenge, Soren mock-protests, Asher’s laughter rings clear, and somewhere between their flailing and my giddy joy, I find it—a happiness as wide as the sea, as bright as this sun-lit room, and as true as the hands wound tight in mine. My bed. My rules. My heart, almost too full to measure. I never, ever thought life could be like this. And I’ll never stop being grateful for every sweet, tangled, riotous minute.
****************************** RUIN ME KNOT Ronan – Bonus Scene: There’s a kind of violence in the quiet after survival. The world goes hushed but inside me, the war doesn’t end. My Omega sleeps, tucked against my chest, her hair tangled, breath hot against my collarbone. The others have drifted off, but I can’t. I can’t stop watching her. I don’t think I ever will. Leah survived what should’ve killed her. She should have been broken and taken by the darkness, yet here she is. Her skin is scarred. Her spirit torn, but she’s still alive. I study the shape of her shoulders beneath the nest of towels and throws. The first time I saw her stripped down by someone else’s cruelty, a thread of defiance lent light to her hollow. That was what kept her burning. The ember that drew me. The rage, too. Nothing gets under my skin faster than someone hurting what’s mine. I want to kill Hardwick again every time I see the old bruises fading on Leah’s body. I want to believe the world can be more than a meat grinder, but she’s proof it isn’t. Not yet. Not for Omegas like her. Still, she lives. She breathes. She curls her small hand in my shirt while she dreams. And every inch of space she takes up is a miracle I’m not sure I deserve. It changes a man, this kind of rescue. Her survival makes me realize how thin the line is between being a weapon and being a home. The military taught me control, but it never taught me tenderness. She’s teaching me that now, whether she knows it or not. I promise her things in the dark, words I don’t say aloud. That I’ll never let anyone touch her again unless it’s with reverence. That every threat, every memory that claws at her, will run up against me first. That I’ll break the world before I let it swallow her again. She stirs, lashes fluttering against her cheek. An involuntary whimper escapes her, a sound that slices clean through my ribcage. Instinct takes over. I trace slow circles down her spine, steadying us both. I offer what I can: “Shh. I’ve got you, Kitten. Not going anywhere.” She settles. I let myself believe, for a moment, that my strength can be enough, that this body built for violence can offer more than hurt. Her survival makes me want to build a new world. One where Omegas never flinch. One where an Alpha means comfort and not a threat. One where kindness isn’t rationed out in thin, fragile threads. One where there are no cages. She’s the answer to questions I didn’t even know I was asking. What do I protect, now that the war is over? Who am I, if not someone’s shield? The answer is simple. I am hers. I am the wall, the warmth, the promise. The last stop for every monster that thinks they’re owed someone else’s pain. She shifts in her sleep, drawing closer. My chest aches with this gratitude, this animal vow to spend every day proving she’s right to have survived. That she can be safe. That I can be enough. She’s not just an Omega rescued from hell. She’s the fire that keeps my own darkness at bay. And as long as I draw breath, that fire will never go out. Gabriel – Bonus Content I never believed in fate, not the fairytale kind, anyway. Life taught me early that sometimes the universe just flings you into darkness and leaves you there to claw your way out. But then there’s Leah. Gods, Leah. The first time I saw her wasn’t just about seeing an Omega broken by monsters. It was standing on the edge of something huge and terrifying and beautiful. Even though she was all jagged edges and stubborn hope. She fought us, sure. Still does, sometimes. But her spirit? Fuck, her spirit is a wildfire that refuses to go out. I still feel the first time her scent hit me, bright and sweet and aching with loss. I think I fell for her in that exact moment. The way she held herself together, all bruised and bloody, still lashing out at the world, not willing to go quietly. How could anyone not fall just a little in love with that kind of courage? She survived. Against odds, against reason, against a world bent on chewing her up and spitting her out. And her survival guts me. It cracks me open in places I didn’t know were soft. I try to keep things light. I make her laugh, talk about pancakes and sunshine and give her a million silly nicknames. Because if she can keep going, I’ll make damn sure her new world is filled with every sparkle of joy and softness she was denied. Her survival is a gift, but it’s also a responsibility. I want to make her smile every day, to fill the empty spaces in her with honey and warmth until the old poison can’t hurt her anymore. I want to carry some of her anguish, lighten every sharp memory, be the place she drops her guard because she finally believes it’s safe. I’d make a joke about it if I said it out loud. But it’s true. I want to be her comfort as much as I’m her mate. Some nights, when she lets herself laugh, when I catch her looking at me like she’s surprised to find the world isn’t all cut glass, I keep her laughing for as long as I can. I’ll burn the world to keep that light in her eyes. I want to show her that hope isn’t a lie. That she isn’t a burden or a problem to be solved. She’s the reason I wake up believing we deserve good things, too. She makes me gentler, braver, sometimes a little desperate. Leah’s survival means second chances. For her, for me, for all of us. So I keep my promises. I’ll cook her pancakes at midnight, chase away nightmares with the worst jokes I can find, hold her hand when she’s bracing for the dark. I’ll talk her through every spiral, kneel in every nest, and make sure she knows deep in her bones that she’s loved. Fiercely. Unconditionally. Always. Yeah, I’m a little gone for my Omega. But she’s worth every damned beat of my heart. Jax – Bonus Content Sometimes I lie awake after the nightmares have faded, listening to Leah breathe, and I wonder how any of us got here alive. Wars teach you plenty about what people will do to survive, but they don’t teach you anything about hope, or softness, or what it means to actually want more than just another day above ground. Leah changes that for me. She’s nestled beside me now, thankfully filling out. I study the way her lashes fan over her cheeks, the way she draws in on herself, always braced for the blow. Sometimes she still flinches from my touch, and I hate that, gods I hate it. But I also respect it. I know what it’s like to live waiting for the floor to drop out from under you. In the service, I learned to read details. The tension in a man’s jaw, the flick of a finger, the echo of fear in a voice. It kept me alive. Now, I use it to read her. The little tells when she’s about to shut down, withdraw behind those walls she spent years building. I try to meet her with patience, to offer safety without demand. Some days she can’t even look at me, and that’s okay. Other days, she’ll let me hold her until the world quiets. Every day I get to see her choose to stay is a victory I’ll never stop being grateful for. Sometimes, I think about all the lectures we got in training about making your brothers your pack. That’s true, but nobody told me this kind of pack was possible. The kind that heals you from the inside out, that makes you want to stay, that makes you care so much it fucking hurts. Leah’s at the center of that for me. She’s proof that it’s possible to survive and still want more than just survival. I love her. All of her. Even the parts she still thinks are broken. Especially those. Every splinter, every scar, every godsdamned sharp edge. She’s perfect. Doesn’t matter how many pieces she thinks she’s in. The miracle is that she’s here, and she’s ours. She’s mine. She makes me want to offer her everything I have. patience, warmth, endless explanations if that’s what she needs. I want her to know that her process, her suffering, her setbacks are not burdens. They’re part of the story; part of the reason I love her so much. It isn’t always easy, but I’d rather have the struggle than never know her at all. My promise is simple: I won’t ever ask her to heal on my timeline. I won’t flinch from the dark, or ask her to be anything other than exactly who she is. I want every part, even when she’s split down the middle, even on the days she can’t see a future. I’ll be here. Quiet, sure, loving her with everything I am. Holding the pieces, as long as it takes, with gratitude and awe. She’s godsdamned perfect. All of her. Leah – Bonus Content I never thought I’d see sunlight outside a cell again. I never let myself dream of anything but survival. The future was a shape I couldn’t hold; hope was too sharp around the edges. Sometimes I still wake expecting the dark, cold silence of Haven, or the sting of Hardwick’s voice echoing in my bones. But now…everything is different. My world is flooded with color, warmth, laughter and love I didn’t know existed outside childhood memory. I remember my parents’ love, gentle and all-encompassing, the kind that holds you through every storm. I thought that would be the only love I’d ever know. Then my Alphas came for me. They changed the meaning of love. Ronan—unyielding and solid, the safety I never believed in, the gravity that pulls me home. Jax—steady warmth and patience, the soft sunrise after too many endless nights, careful and kind, never asking me to be anything but myself. Gabriel—light and laughter, the breath that eases every shadow, a promise that joy is not just for other people. Their love is not something I must earn. It doesn’t demand I shrink or hide. It fills every fracture, every scar, every hollowed place I thought was beyond repair. It’s a soul-deep connection, as if our hearts remember each other from some place outside of time. They know me sometimes better than I know myself. When I touch the bond, their love thrumms through me: fierce, unbreakable, and real. I love them so much it hurts. I love the way they fight for me, hold me when I break, let me rage and weep and hope. I love the way they offer steady hands, quiet words, and unconditional presence. Their devotion makes me stronger. Not just in body but in spirit. Because of them, I finally believe I’m worthy of holding and being held. I thought my world would always be small. But now there’s more. Mira and Emma, my chosen sisters. My family, built not from blood but from survival and memory and shared, sacred pain. With them, I am not alone. We survived when we weren’t meant to, and together we’ll make sure no one is ever forgotten, or left to rot in the dark. My friends are my roots. They anchor me when the world goes mad. For the first time, I am learning to love even my own Omega. The part of me I hated, blamed, and wanted to cut away. She is not my enemy. She is the wildness that kept me alive, the softness that lets me trust, the hunger for love. I am becoming whole, piece by piece. The world tips, changing beneath my feet. Change I never thought I’d live to see. Omegas are rising. The old world burns, and we are the fire and the future. But I know the fight isn’t finished. Wallace is still out there and too many Omegas are still missing. Every day I wake up free is a day someone else is still trapped. The guilt is sharp, but it’s also a promise: I will not rest until every Omega has what I have found safety, love, a place to belong. I am not small or fragile or powerless anymore. I am not defined by what was done to me. I am a storm. I am a promise. I am the echo of every Omega who refused to die quietly, and I will drag the world into the light with me. My Alphas stand at my back, my sisters at my side, and my own Omega—my wild, beautiful self—burns bright in my chest. This is my vow: I will hunt down the old ways and turn them to ash. I will help every lost, broken soul find the love and safety I never thought possible. Times are changing…and I am the fire that will light the way.
****************************** MAGIC CLAIMED Want to see Jarom's first brush with soul-deep longing and the secrets he'll never speak aloud? Get the inside view of the night everything changed. For him, and for the pack with this exclusive Jarom POV scene when he comes face to face with Serafine in the forest in the middle of that raging storm. Sign up for my newsletter and unlock the first true taste of magic, mistrust, and the slow, gorgeous undoing of a wolf haunted by his past. Jarom Wind slashed through the forest, shredding the night into ragged strips, rain driving needles into my pelt. It was an unruly night to be out on patrol, but there couldn't be a day or night where we could rest. My people needed to be protected, and I would do what it took to keep them safe. Lightning stuttered through the trees. Superheated white veins lanced down, followed by thunder that rattled teeth and bone. Something crashed through the undergrowth, gasping, wild, much too loud for anything that belonged here. The scent hit me: female, and human. Sharp and bracing, wrong here in the middle of the woods. My wolf's hackles rose. Outland trespass. Not a shifter, not pack. Human prey. I signaled with a jerk of my muzzle, growl vibrating from deep in my chest. Alert, angry, the order clear to the wolves running the line with me. Three broke from the shadows, fur bristling, eyes flashing in the deluge. I led the charge, paws tearing through needles and black mud. My mind narrowed to the pulse of the hunt, the flare of adrenaline. The others fanned out to flank, their bodies flowing between tree trunks, ghost-swift and silent. I caught another hit of her scent: fear, sweat, blood, and something buried deeper, softer, the promise of warmth that stoked the hunger I swore never to feel again. Then I saw her, blundering through the undergrowth, soaked and shivering, her fragile shape bent beneath the weight of panic. She flinched from every branch, tangled herself in vines and shadows, stumbling through the ruin of storm. Thunder bared her silhouette in a stark, blinding strobe, and for an instant I caught her face: wide-eyed, lips split with the shallow gasps of the hunted. My body locked, every instinct on fire. Something in me slipped its leash. A pull, raw and ancient, dragging me toward her with teeth bared. My chest constricted, the mate-bond song clawing up from wherever I'd buried it. But I knew better than to trust. Haera's name coiled through my mind, toxic, a bitter thread wound around everything I used to hope for. I'd let myself hunger, let magic paint lies across my flesh and soul. Haera had tricked me. Tricked all of us and the fallout had cost me everything I thought was sacred. I no longer trusted the tug of fate, not the siren hum of magic inside my bones, not even my own instincts. Her lies had come close to breaking the bond between my brothers and me. I'd been so fooled by her, I'd almost destroyed our home. I felt nothing but suspicion seeing this female. Only the sick taste of dread curling on my tongue. She could be anyone, sent by a member of The Six to infiltrate my brothers and steal my home away again. Well, she could try, but I would not be fooled. With a gesture, I ordered my wolves to slip between the trees and surround her, boxing her in. My shoulders bulked with threat, my growl vibrated the air. I stepped from the shadows, dominance radiating off every inch, as she ran into my trap. She froze, mouth open, eyes so wild and raw they threatened to drag confession out of me. Terror stamped every line of her, but beneath it was a stubbornness, and a pulse I couldn't name, something that set my nerves alight. I growled, stepping forward, letting size, scent, threat press her down. Her scent tangled with mine, lilacs and terror and something soft and unbearable beneath. She was frail, tiny. Nothing like the spies I'd hunted or the enemy mages I'd ripped apart. Rain plastered her platinum hair to her skull, a tangle of moon-pale strands clinging to hollow cheeks and the harsh line of a jaw set with stubbornness she had no right to own. Bruises and scars mapped the thin lines of her throat and wrists, remnants of a thousand punishments. Her clothes, if they could be called that, hung in sodden tatters, a shift ripped at the hem, sleeves torn and muddied, and boots far too large on her delicate feet, heavy things bought or taken secondhand, soles flapping with each stumbling step. She was a slave. I corrected myself. She looked like a slave. The stink of fear and resignation clung to her skin, mingling with blood and filth and something faint beneath... a sweetness, a lost kind of hope. She looked breakable. A survivor who had learned the cost of every heartbeat. Yet even in the shattered angles, she was beautiful. Not in the way Haera had been, all polish and guile, but in the terrible, raw honesty of her wounds and endurance. Every bruise was a story she hadn't chosen. Each scar was a testament to everything she'd survived. Her lips, cracked and split, were shaped for secrets, and her eyes. Gods, her eyes, held a glint too alive for someone who should have given up a hundred times over. She was beautiful. That truth struck as much as it shamed me, dangerous and unwelcome. It stirred an ache nothing in this broken world had been able to touch, breathing life into a part of me I'd long since condemned. I hated how my gaze lingered, how the urge to protect warred with the need to reject her. She was a slave, yet she burned with a stubborn, terrible light. One that pulled at something deep and dangerous in me, no matter how hard I tried to turn away. She was also an intruder in our Territory and that I would not forgive. I lunged, meaning to scare her. My paws connected, pinning her, mud slick against my body. Heat slammed into me, not external but inside. Magic snapped through my blood and marrow. My consciousness buckled, that mate-bond song thrumming, so familiar it ached. Change overwhelmed me, forced through by that intolerable pull. I fought it, clawed against it. Still it came, my rose gold soul threads flaring to life inside my dead chest, forcing me to shift from wolf to male. She stared up at me, eyes huge, broken open and I fell into those fathomless depths. Light drew us together, but it was a lie. It had to be and I would not fall for that same trick again. I let my hands close on her shoulders, too tight. Couldn't help it. If I loosened, she'd slip away. If I squeezed, maybe she'd vanish like Haera, reveal her lie, save me from wanting. "Mate." The word yanked itself out, a chain clattering to the stones. My voice strangled with bitterness I couldn't hide. My body ached for her. Ached even though I knew she had to be fake. Because if she were my mate, she would have Changed into a wolf, and I smelled no wolf in her blood. Whoever had spun this spell made a fatal mistake. She trembled beneath me. So small. My gaze drank in her features, mapping them for weakness, for the spell's edge. If I let myself soften I would lose everything. Again. Haera's laughter echoed behind my ribs. Eike, Alerick, all the pack almost torn apart by my desperation to believe. To love. I would show no softness now. Not ever. My eyes dropped to the silver collar. Magic glared against her skin. Esoti's crest. Hot, wild, impossible rage warred with revulsion. Rip the collar away. Drag her somewhere safe. Demand the truth right there. The instinct rose up sharp and then twisted back on itself. That was the trick at work again, making me feel the wanting, the need, whether it was real or something the magic forced into me. It was brilliant. Sending someone who looked so pathetic to try to leverage her way through empathy. I would show her none. I hauled her up, fingers digging hard enough to bruise, ignoring the ache in my chest as she whimpered. "Why did Esoti send you?" The words scraped from deep, harsh, and accusing. She stared, hollow and savage around the eyes, like someone who'd lived a thousand nightmares and survived only half of them. Wolves ringed us, closing the circle around us. Eike and Alerick would sense it soon. The magic. The danger. I had to hold, had to stand between them and this threat. Even if the bond thrummed through my marrow, singing of home and rightness. I gritted my teeth against it, forced the words out. "I'm telling the truth. I'm a slave. I was attacked. I ran here to get away from them." Her voice threaded through my anger, twisted my suspicion with a pang I didn't want to know as worry. Her words made it through the night with difficulty. Rough-edged as if speech was pain or rarity, a tool unused for too long. Timid, brittle, the kind of sound creatures make when they've learned no one listens. Despite the tremble in her voice, I heard endurance in it, stubborn and battered. "Save it. Anyone can wear that collar and say they're a slave. No, I think there's another reason someone like you is here in the middle of our Territory." I paused, showing her I knew what she was up to and her lie wouldn't work on me. "He sent you to spy on us." Her eyes flared, and genuine trepidation crossed her face. I had to give it to her. She was a good actress. She shivered so hard I thought she'd come apart. That storm pressed its frost into her marrow, her lips mottled with blue, fingers curled tight and useless against the rags clinging to her bony frame. She was seconds from collapse, and yet, some part of her still stood up to me, a male three times her size who could put her on her ass with a shove of my little finger. I forced myself to stay steel. Alpha wolf, not a fool. Yet the urge to press warmth into her bones, to catch her before she shattered beneath the storm, snarled beneath my ribs and refused to fade. But the pack watched, their faith in me a living thing binding us all. I straightened, throwing my shoulders back, because I would not, could not, let them see the fracture running through me. I would not fall for another lie again, no matter how alluring the package it was wrapped in. I had to protect my bond brothers. I had to guard the whole pack from any weapon, and protect us from this curse the universe sent us in the fragile form of this half-frozen, silver-collared slave. Most of all, I had to protect myself from every trembling beat of hope that threatened to betray me. I knew what happened to wolves who trusted pretty lies and wanted things they should never want. I stepped over her, using my height to intimidate. If they wanted someone who could stand up to me, they should have sent a better spy. "You're coming with me, female. I'll get the truth from you myself."
****************************** MAGIC BONDED Damon Standing on the outer ledge of my castle, I surveyed the endless sweep of mountains of the kingdom I guarded. The Territory I ruled. Wind knifed through the crags, carrying the icy scent of snow and smoke, but none of it filled the emptiness inside me. My people lived in the mountains, strong and loyal, as yet another night closed without a whisper of hope. Naet and Callan had almost given up hope of finding our mate as much as I. We’d met every dragon female born to this land, yet not one called to our souls. The feast days grew colder, the celebrations emptier. Every season passed, and the absence of our mate carved a deeper hollow through the heart of our triad. Most nights, loneliness pressed as heavily as the mountain stone. Callan kept up his jokes but they were strained. Naet threw himself into drills, training our warriors until his uniform was stained with his blood. I carried my own ache in silence, shouldering it as an Alpha must, but it never dulled. The more time passed, the ache for our mate hardened into doubt. Would she ever come? Or had fate decided to leave us incomplete, half souls wandering through centuries of longing? My gaze swept to where Drisella’s spindly black fortress clawed at the horizon. It was a blight on the world. Her stronghold loomed over the peaks, a twisting, unnatural silhouette, every stone soaked in the screams of my people where she discord her magic and might into the flesh and bone of my people. Throughout the centuries, she’d locked hundreds of dragons in her dungeons. I’d rescued those I could, but they’d been returned to me as broken shadows while I’d been helpless to stop her. Rage simmered, fueling a hatred that would never die. Drisella’s cruelty haunted my every year. Her thirst for power a scourge against everything I’d sworn to protect. And yet, the Fae King had chosen his Six to lead the Earth before disappearing forever and leaving us to our fate. I prayed my mate had never felt Drisella’s chains. That fate, at least, had spared her that, but there was no way of knowing. Hope felt thin tonight. The thought of my mate dying at the hand of that witch before we had the chance to meet gnawed at my every thought. The mountain wind howled, but I stood silent, banishing imaginings from my mind. My dragon itched beneath my skin, demanding out. The need surged, claws raking the inside of my flesh, insistent and hungry. There was no reason to deny my other form and a long flight on this dark, cold night matched my mood. I stripped down, letting the wind bite at my scars, and gave myself to the Change. Bones cracked and reformed, muscle bunched and swelled, black scales rippling out in a wave of molten heat. Wings burst free, spanning wide, catching the currents as I launched from the ledge. Air slammed under my body. I surged higher, climbing through the thin, savage cold, every beat of my wings driving me farther from the stale sadness that shadowed the keep. Instinct screamed to go faster, to burn through the night until nothing but wind and moonlight remained. The ache in my core drove me toward father and father away, until the lights of our keep vanished behind me and the wild borderlands lay in darkness below. I chased the wind, hunting the far horizon, as if distance might scour the loneliness from my soul. The border loomed, a seam of shadow slashing between wolf and dragon Territories that I would not cross. My wings dipped as I turned when a new scent crashed into me. Heady. Delicious. Utterly intoxicating. My head snapped toward the source, nostrils flaring wide. The scent was unlike anything in this world. Sun-warmed earth tangled with wild lightning and something impossibly sweet and alive. Feminine. My heart slammed once, twice, every sense narrowing to that one perfect thread in the storm. Desire punched through me. My cock swelled, every vein in my body singing with recognition. I had to find this female. I dove to the ice-covered ledge and the tiny wooden shack on the inside border of Wolf Territory. Who in the seven hells leaves a female in a shack on a mountain ledge with no way down? No guards. No protectors. She’s alone. That ramshackle hut couldn’t shield her from the wind, let alone the monsters stalking these mountains. It’s barbaric. Fury surged, a vicious, pulsing need to rescue her before the wild claimed her. Had someone put her here on purpose, to survive the ice and frigid wind alone? The door flew open and her scent poured out—thick, dizzying, so strong I groaned. Then, there, barely visible, tiny footprints stamped into the snow, racing away from the shack and straight toward the edge. I landed on the ledge with a thunder of wings, snow scattering beneath my weight. My mate stumbled away, panic etched in every step. My dragon locked onto her heat signature, needing to protect as her fear clawed at my insides. The last thing I wanted was to terrify her. I willed my dragon back, skin searing as I Changed, bones sliding and sharpening down to flesh. Naked now and human. She spun around, horror etched into her beautiful face. Instead of coming to me, she broke, spinning to run, skirts tangling at her legs. She risked her life with every blind step toward the edge. I lunged forward, grabbing her waist, catching her before she could fall to the ice and hurt herself. The instant my hands closed around her. My body surged, the Change blasting through me, white-hot, raw. Power crackled up my spine, soul threads snapping together. Satisfaction slammed into me with that first wild touch. She’d forced my Change. She was my mate. She was mine. Mine. She shimmered into view, stunning, impossibly beautiful—wild auburn hair tangled by the wind, cheeks flushed from cold and terror. Her eyes, wide and furious blue, cut right through any shield I’d ever forged. The curve of her mouth, the stubborn set of her jaw, the delicate arch of her brow was chaos and grace, fragile and feral, every contradiction made flesh. My soul thread unfurled, sharp and electric, reaching from the center of my being to hers, hungry, greedy for contact. I’d never known longing like this, never burned so brutal for another. She was everything I’d never dared to want, everything fate had denied me until now. I tipped my head back and roared, the sound tearing through the mountain night, a triumphant claim that shook snow from the ledge. My mate. Gods, she was mine! But she stumbled away, terror stamped on her face. I’d terrorized her. The triumph twisted in my gut, wrenching me as she staggered, losing her footing, slipping over the edge of the cliff. I dove after her, winging down as she tumbled toward the rocks below. I caught her—barely—my claws curling protectively around her fragile body, but her head slammed into my palm. A wand fell from her boneless fingers and a river of blood seeped from her hairline to gush over the side of her face. She was still. So still. Agony knifed through me. At the hurt I’d caused. I’d failed before I’d even begun. Urgency screamed through me. I would not let my mate shatter on these stones, would not abandon her to that inadequate shack or the cold that would strip her bare. She would need me. She would need Callan and Naet. But first, she needed our healer. I cradled her in my fist fighting the animal panic that threatened to seize control. With furious beats of my wings, I launched into the night, racing through darkness toward the safety of our keep swearing with every gust of wind that nothing in this world would ever harm her again.
****************************** MAGIC HUNTED Making love after the final battle ASHIR She slept curled in my arms, warmth pressed to my chest, her scent tangled with pine, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of battle. For the first time in my life, I woke with no trace of dread. Only gratitude that the gods had let me draw breath next to my mate. Haera’s hair fanned across my skin, every little sound of her breathing imprinting on my heart. In the golden hush of the wolf den, with Savvas molded to her back and Dias’s hand splayed over her hip, I knew what peace meant. She used to flinch when I touched her. Now she nuzzled closer, hungry in her sleep, trusting me to keep the darkness at bay. My soul-light spun in my chest, a living fire—orange for loyalty, for protection, for the promise I’d made to her spirit before I even knew her name. I watched her wake: the slow flutter of lashes, the cautious blink, the moment she let herself see me and not the world she’d had to survive. Gods, she was fierce. She’d been carved by loss and still managed to shine. My heart threatened to tear itself open with the force of loving her. I’d always been strong. I’d always protected others. But this was more than duty or fate. This was waking up with her soul-light twined through mine, feeling every pulse of her desire and fear and hope down to my marrow. It was magic, yes, but more than that—Haera’s trust was a living thing singing through our bond. She was green flame, wild and pure, and when our lights touched, I felt the whole world shift. No spell, no shifter legend could have prepared me for the avalanche of joy that broke through my chest at her acceptance. I would have torn the sun from the sky to make her believe she was precious. I would have died a thousand deaths for one smile, one sigh, one moan whispered into my skin. When I kissed her—really kissed her, no holding back, no fear of hurting or scaring her—something inside me unlocked. My cock rubbed hard against her thigh, yes, but the real hunger was deeper. It was the need to see her surrendered to pleasure, to see her wild and unafraid, to make her safe enough to beg for more. I worshipped her body, her scars, her stubborn jaw, the trembling hope in her eyes. I wanted to burn away every trace of doubt. To let her feel that even if the world ended, even if The Six rose from the dead, she would always be the center of my universe. I’d braid every thread of my soul into hers—again and again—for the rest of my days. When Savvas pressed up behind her and Dias’s hands roamed her hips, our bond pulsed brighter, a living current of want. There was no jealousy—only the fierce need to make Haera feel adored, claimed, never alone again. Her soul-light clung to us, trusting, and the power of the completed bond made me half-savage with joy. Our soul-lights blazed in the space between us—orange, red, yellow, green—melding into something that felt like home. Her moans, her pleas, the way she finally said yes without reservation… I had to fight not to break apart right then, overcome by the rightness of her in my arms. This is what it was to be alpha. Not power or dominance, but devotion: staking everything to see your mate safe, seen, fulfilled. Protecting her with every breath, yes, but more—loving her without limit, without fear. I would spend the rest of my life making sure Haera never doubted herself, her beauty, or her place at the center of this bond. She was mine, ours, and I was more hers than I’d ever been anyone’s. When our bodies finally joined, when our soul-lights locked and the magic rushed through us—violent, wild, bright—I felt the world tilt. She was my purpose, my promise. Forever. And for the first time, forever sounded like paradise. DIAS I worshipped her with my mouth, letting every touch become a promise. Haera’s scent clung to my lips—sweet, wild, addictive. When I closed my eyes and sucked her clit, feeling her hips buck, it was the world’s most perfect music. The bond shimmered, alive and vibrating, her pleasure running through me like sunlight. I tasted her, knowing this was the gift I’d hungered for: to please, to soothe, to be worthy. Savvas’s laugh vibrated through the mattress as he teased her breast, and Ashir’s quiet growl rumbled across her lips. The room was full of heat and trust and the heady shock of finally having her. Not just her body, but her soul—open, unafraid, wanting us as much as we needed her. I licked up her seam, closing my lips around her clit again, and her gasp made me harder than I’d ever been. Years of wanting condensed into this moment, this taste, this sacred permission. She groaned, her fingers tangled in my hair, and I thought: this is love. This is the bond I used to pray for in the darkness, when I was too afraid to hope. Ashir kissed her, cradling her face, and told her she was safe. That she was ours. I sent my soul-light to hers, letting her feel how true that was. My yellow wove with her green, sparking and dancing, drawing Savvas’s red and Ashir’s orange to us. Our soul-lights wanted only unity, only peace. She moaned my name, and I lifted my head, lips slick and shining, letting her see how much I craved her. I wanted her to know what she did to me—not just the ache in my body, but the worship in my heart. “I need you, magic. Need you with every part of my body and soul. Need to heal every hurt you’ve ever carried.” The bond pulsed, almost breaking, as she reached for me with trembling fingers. There was no fear in her now. Only hunger, only joy. I knelt over her, guiding my cock to her palm, needing her to touch, to claim, to feel how she undid me. Her eyes widened and her lips parted as she circled me with her hand. A jolt of pleasure crashed through me as her grip tightened, sliding from base to tip. I thrust into her hand, unable to hold back, savoring the way she watched—awed, hungry, reverent. “Magic, you can touch me anywhere, anytime. Your hand is home.” Her touch was tentative and then greedy, as if she finally believed she was allowed to want, to take. My voice shook as I spoke, “I want to make this good for you, magic. Want to show you how it should be.” “Need you, Dias. Please make love to me. Show me what real pleasure feels like.” Her plea was a prayer, and I was the only one meant to answer. I moved between her thighs, positioning myself at her slick, perfect entrance. My cock slid through her folds and she gasped, her whole body arching for me. My hands cupped her hips and I held her, staring into her eyes. “Are you ready for me, mate? Ready for me to make you mine the way it should always be?” She nodded, eyes shining, soul-light wide open. I kissed her, hard—full of gratitude, awe, and the need to worship her with everything I had. I pushed in, slow and careful, letting her feel every ridge, every inch. The smallest resistance gave way with a sharp breath, and I froze, kissing her tears away as our bond wrapped us both in comfort and fire. “Gods, you are divine. Perfect. Made for me,” I whispered into her skin, feeling her walls clench around me, drawing me deeper. “She’s a gift. Our perfect gift,” Savvas said, stroking her arm, making her shiver, and Ashir’s voice was thick with love. “Make love to our mate, Dias. Show her paradise.” I didn’t rush. I pulled out, savoring the way she gripped me, then pressed back in, sliding deeper. Her core squeezed me, wet and hot, and I lost myself, moving in time with her breathless pleas. Each thrust was a vow: I would never hurt you. I would never take you for granted. I would make you feel loved, safe, wanted. “Yes. Incredible, Dias.” Haera writhed beneath me, hips lifting to meet my slow, deep thrusts. Her hands tightened on Ashir and Savvas. She moaned my name—the sound was worship, salvation, pure hope. “This is how it should always feel with your mates,” I growled, my voice shaking. “Pleasure, not pain. Love, not fear.” Again and again I slid into her, hips rolling, stroking that spot inside her that made her arch and call out. Her heat, her scent, her soul—every part of her sang to mine. I let my hands map the lines of her hips, the swell of her breast, the wild twist of her hair. She was everything I’d ever wanted, and she was mine. Ashir reached between us, finding her clit, circling it, making her sob with pleasure. I bent, kissing her, tasting my own desire on her tongue, feeling the world narrowing down to this, this moment, the two of us locked together as soul-lights burned. “Come, mate. Come and bond with me. Let me into your soul,” Ashir growled, voice rough. I snapped my hips, cock throbbing deep inside her. Her orgasm washed over me in waves—physical, yes, but also cosmic, the bond cracking wide as her green soul-light wrapped wholly around my yellow. I felt her arch, body fluttering, her moans echoing through the room and the bond. My own climax hit, intense and total, as if every prayer I’d sent up was finally answered. I pulsed inside her, grinding my hips, letting her take every drop, every promise. My soul-light surged into hers: memories, hope, worship, a thousand whispered confessions I’d never dared speak. Our souls merged, yellow and green entwined, and I felt her wonder, her gratitude, her astonished relief. Together we lit up, a constellation brighter than anything in this world. “Haera. Magic. My love.” My voice shook as I kissed her softly. This time there was no desperation. Nothing but awe and contentment. We were whole. Her hands caressed me, soothing, anchoring, her heart beating in time with mine. The bond was finally real, finally complete—a part of me I could never live without again. She looked at me, eyes shining with the truth that she was mine—ours, at last. And I was hers. Forever. SAVVAS Haera’s skin was still shining with sweat, her thighs trembling from her last orgasm, but her eyes locked on mine, wild and sure. I’d never seen anything more beautiful than my mate when she was flushed and hungry and riding the edge of surrender. My soul-light flared inside me, red and bright, burning away anything left of my old doubts. She wanted me. Not just my body, but everything—my wildness, my laughter, my loyalty, my love. She wanted me. She climbed into my lap like it was her rightful place, and I welcomed her with greedy hands at her waist. I felt her core clench around nothing, her need a live current in the bond. She was a miracle—brave enough to take what she wanted, strong enough to break her own chains. I wanted to worship her for the rest of my life. She steadied herself, gaze full of confidence and challenge, and when she spoke, it was like claiming the world. “I might be ready for my mate, but are you ready for me, Savvas? Would you like to bond with me now? Make me yours?” My cock twitched at her words. Sometimes she still didn’t know her own power—how every word, every movement, every look from her undid me. “You have my mind, body, soul, and heart. It’s yours for the taking. I’m yours for the taking. Forever and always, my heart.” Every syllable was truth. She could’ve asked for anything and I would have given it—joked my way through a hurricane, fought the gods, burned down the world. For her. She kissed me, and all my secrets spilled into her mouth—my fear of never being enough, my joy at her trust, the bone-deep relief that she’d survived, that she wanted me. She tasted a little like salt, a little like forest after rain—a little like hope. She reached down and angled my cock to her entrance. The touch nearly undid me, but I grinned, letting her see how much I wanted her, how hungry I was for this. For her. She slid down, slow and steady, inch by inch taking all of me. I was long, and she was so tight, hotter than any dream I’d ever had. She filled me with awe, made me feel powerful and gentle at the same time. I gripped her hips, holding her steady, careful not to bruise, even though every instinct wanted to grip harder, to claim. Gods, she was perfect. She let out a gasp, her head falling back, and I groaned, feeling the relentless squeeze of her body. “Gods, Haera. You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect. Like you were made just for us.” There was worship in me, pure and simple. I wanted her to take her time, to do whatever she needed, because there was nothing I loved more than her taking control. My Haera was a survivor, a fighter, a woman who’d been denied pleasure for too long. Now she could have it all. Now she could take and take and never run dry. She started to ride me, her thighs shaking, and I rocked up to meet her, eyes on her face, on the way her jaw slackened with each drop, on her nipples flushed and tight. I’d been inside women before—casual, wild, sometimes desperate—but never like this. Never where every movement felt like a prayer and a victory at the same time. I loved the way her body welcomed me, milked me, owned me. I couldn’t stop my hands from wandering—pressing over her back, cupping her ass, mapping every scar and every softness. I wanted to claim her, but I wanted her to know she owned me just as fiercely. She leaned in and kissed me, and I kissed her back with my whole heart, tongue tangling with hers, hands tangled in her hair. My soul-light poured through the bond—red and wild, full of jokes and promises, playful joy and ferocious loyalty. I let her feel it all. I wanted her to know I would spend every day of my life making her feel wanted, seen, and loved. Her green soul-light crashed into mine, wrapping around me, drawing me tighter. I felt her trust. Felt her gratitude. She knew I would never hurt her, never ask her to hide herself away. She could be as wild as she liked—more, even. I would love her for it. “Move for me, my heart,” I whispered, and she did, taking her pleasure, grinding her clit against my pelvis, moaning my name until my own head fell back and I nearly sobbed with the strength of it. I matched her every thrust, my cock swelling and pulsing inside her. Every slap of her hips against mine sent another wave of heat through the bond. We weren’t just fucking. We were making something holy. We were building a place where she could finally be safe, finally be wild, finally be loved with every ounce of who she was. My panther purred for her, content and smug. My need for her was endless. I would have spent all day there, letting her ride me, letting her milk my soul for the rest of eternity. Her orgasm rushed through her, her whole body shaking, her head thrown back in wordless surrender. I thrust up once, twice, and let myself go, spilling inside her, letting my seed and my love and my soul-light pour into her. Red exploded in my mind, a rain of sparks, a wild joy I’d never known. The bond snapped tight, her green entwined with my red, forever. Her memories flooded me—her lonely childhood, her fierce hope, every time she’d doubted her worth. I gave her mine in return—every ridiculous song I’d sung, every night spent wishing I could hold her, every vow I’d ever made to protect her at all costs. She would never be alone again. She collapsed against me, her skin sticky with sweat, her breath as fast as my own, and I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her temple, burying my nose in her wild hair. There were a thousand things I wanted to say, but all that came out was the truth. “That was...gods, Haera. You’re everything, my heart. Everything I ever dreamed.” She smiled against my neck, her body melting into mine, the bond pulsing in perfect harmony. I held her tight, content, giddy, full of the certainty that I was home at last. I would make her smile every day. I would fight the world for her every moment. I would never let her doubt that she was mine, and I was hers, and this—this—was what we’d both deserved all along. And when she needed more, when she needed Ashir or Dias, I would be right beside her, loving her for needing, for wanting, for being whole. My mate. My gift. The wild, beautiful answer to every prayer I’d ever whispered in the dark. ASHIR My mate whimpered my name, reaching for me, her body trembling with need, her eyes wild and full of everything I’d ever waited to see. My cock ached with the urgency to claim her, to bond, to lose myself in the certainty of her surrender. When she begged, when she told me yes—yes to me, yes to the bond, yes to forever—the hard shell I’d built over years of duty and loss cracked open. I needed to hear it again. Not for doubt’s sake, but because her choice meant everything. All the waiting, all the pain and fighting, every moment we’d won and lost. “Tell me again. Tell me you want this bond. Tell me you want me.” Her words were air; I breathed them in like prayer. “I want you. I want the bond. I want to be yours forever.” The world narrowed to her. All the rest—victory, wounds, even the missing—fell away. I nuzzled her ear, taking my place between her parted thighs. Every muscle in my body shook with restraint, a shifter on the edge, desperate and hungry. Her scent called to me, sharp and sweet, mixing with my own arousal until it filled my head, my chest, my soul-light. My breath was ragged, matching the frantic rhythm of her heart. “Look at me,” I commanded, needing her gaze. I needed to see her while I made her mine. When our eyes locked, I saw her raw trust, her surrender, and nearly lost control. I dragged my cock through her folds, teased her entrance, made her whimper and beg. I wanted her desperate. I wanted her full. She was done waiting. Before I could torture us both further, she notched me at her entrance, braced her heels, and sank down, taking me inside. I groaned, gasped, lost my mind for a moment as her heat enveloped me. She was as tight as Savvas was long, as wet as Dias was thick, and she molded around me like her body had been made for me alone. A warm glow lit in the bond—a miracle, a merging. Our colors bled together: her wild green and my burning orange, joined by threads from Savvas and Dias, all woven into one. I planted my hands beside her head and pressed up, my chest slick with sweat, my muscles corded from holding back. “Not gonna be gentle, my mate. I need you too much.” My panther rumbled, hunger in every syllable. I wanted her claw marks on my arms, wanted her screaming, wanted her wrecked. “Don’t want gentle,” she begged back. “Need to feel you everywhere.” Her words snapped the last leash on my control. I thrust deep and hard, hips slamming, the pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. She took every inch, her inner walls milking me, her legs wide and welcoming, her arms braced on my forearms. I watched her face, the way her eyes went raw and dazed, the way her lips parted to moan my name. “You feel so perfect. Like you were made for me. For us,” I groaned. Each thrust chipped away at the remnants of the old bond, making way for something new and whole. The pleasure built quickly—too quickly—but I didn’t care. I needed to mark her, claim her, love her so thoroughly she’d never doubt again. “Mine,” I snarled, breath ragged as I pounded into her. “Say it. Say you’re ours.” “Yours,” she gasped. “Always yours.” She broke beneath me. I felt her climax hit, saw her eyes widen, her nails dig into my flesh. I lost myself in her, lost all sense outside the bond, outside this blazing union of flesh and soul. The only thing that mattered was being inside her, moving with her, pushing her higher. There was no caution left. My thrusts grew rough, unrestrained, and she matched me, her body wild and needy. When her cries broke into sobs of pleasure, I let myself go, snarling my own release into her hair, grinding into her as I pulsed inside, filling her with everything I had. The bond shattered and rebuilt, the old barriers falling away. My soul-light surged forward, merged with hers, and for the first time I felt it—wholeness. No more holes inside me. No more loneliness. Only joy, raw and blinding, as we all blended into one. I brushed the sweaty strands of her hair from her face, studying her. “Are you all right, Haera?” My voice was rough, almost afraid, because I knew this meant more to me than anything else in my life. “I feel you all,” she breathed, wonder in every syllable. Relief rushed through me so hard it shook my limbs. I rolled to my side, taking her with me, my cock still deep inside her, never wanting to let her go. Dias pressed close, the warmth of his love shining in his eyes. “As do we. I love feeling you inside me, knowing you’re there close to my heart. Finally, I can breathe.” Savvas cupped her chin, thumb stroking her bottom lip, his usual mischief soft around the edges. “Be careful what you wish for, my heart. We can be a handful.” Haera laughed, and it sounded like sunlight, like hope. “A handful I’m happy to manage.” I brought my arm around her shoulders, gathering her close to my chest. Savvas slid behind her, a solid, loving presence, and Dias draped himself over our legs, his fingers splayed protectively over her skin. We surrounded her—muscle, sweat, heat, love. There was no place safer, no place better. I pressed a kiss to her knuckles, letting her feel my adoration. I had to say it, had to mark this moment forever. “I’ll never regret pulling you from the river that day, nor anything that transpired after it. Our bonding may not have been smooth, but we’ve healed and become stronger because of it. What we feel for you is unbreakable. We’ve got you now, and you have us for all eternity. Come what may, our souls are one now.” I could feel the last of her doubts dissolve, like mist at sunrise. She was finally whole, and so was I. For so long, I’d been the shield for everyone else—calm, steady, unbreakable. I let the gratitude and pride swell inside me. Not just for surviving, but for loving and being loved by this wild, wounded, perfect woman. “You’ve all given me everything I’ve ever needed. The hole that was there after my parents died is gone. You did that. You healed me. You’ve given me everything.” She laced her fingers with mine, resting our joined hands on my chest. My heart stilled under her touch. “We know. We’ve known for quite some time,” I said, unable to hide my smile. “We were waiting for you to catch up.” She sighed, content and spent, relaxing into our arms, the bond thrumming like a heartbeat in my chest. My heart threatened to burst with gratitude. She was ours. We were hers. Nothing—not magic, not fate, not ancient enemies—could ever tear us apart again. We weren’t free yet. Not completely. But now, for the first time, our destiny was our own. Together, we would fight for everything worth living for. As one. One month later back in the jungle… DIAS Sunlight, real sunlight, spilled through the jungle canopy in ribbons, dazzling the packed earth and tangled roots beneath my bare feet. The air was thick with life. Birdsong, panther shifter laughter, the humming of beetles and bees. The scents of earth after rain, blooming vines, ripe fruit, and so much life pulsed all around me. Gods, I’d forgotten how green the world was—the way the jungle throbbed with freedom, with possibility. All around, our people moved as if waking from a long, haunted sleep. They spoke in low, awed voices, barely daring to believe that Titan’s hold was truly broken. Mates embraced without fear; cubs tumbled in wild games, muddy and unafraid. Warriors leaned against sun-warmed stones, arms draped over one another no longer scanning the horizon for danger. Even the elders, their scars pale and faded, let their faces tilt up to the sun, letting it pour over skin that had gone years without feeling anything but dread and duty. The elves were reveling in the open air. I caught glimpses of them sitting in clusters by the stream, fingers trailing in clear water, eyes closed as they let the sunlight soak into their bones. Some stood in silence, just breathing, letting the gold light wash away centuries of subterranean shadow. A cluster of elven children ran races with panther cubs, their laughter ringing into the trees. This was what home was supposed to be. At the pen’s edge, I watched Haera work, perched atop a warbug under General Taredd’s patient instruction. The beast bucked, antennae thrashing, but she held her seat, jaw set in stubborn joy. She had always been wild—untamable, undaunted, born for survival. I remembered her hunted and hollow, but here, now, she glowed, her eyes bright with challenge and pride. Every time she managed a turn, every time she coaxed the huge creature with a steady hand instead of brute force, something in my chest loosened. Savvas flopped onto the grass beside me, bare arms behind his head, gaze fixed on Haera. He grinned, all easy pleasure and mischief. “Look at her. Gods, I love that about her. The world could be burning down, and she’d still find time to take on a new beast.” Ashir stood by the fence, arms folded, savoring the scene with quiet satisfaction. The sun picked out the streaks of copper in his hair, the gold in his eyes, pride plain on his face. He never needed to say much; you could see what he felt in the way he watched her, in the way his jaw relaxed for the first time in years. I let out a long, slow breath, letting the bond pulse out through all of us. It felt different now: not just a tether of survival or a channel for pain, but a current of gentler things—peace, contentment, even hope. The dome Haera had raised shimmered overhead, golden and warm, promising safety I’d never truly believed in before. I let my thoughts drift, touched by longing and memory as Haera coaxed the warbug to a halt. Brais would have loved this day. He would have laughed at the elves sunning themselves, at the little ones playing, at the way we all marveled at the taste of freedom. There’d been so many nights in the dark when we’d whispered about the world as it could be. Not just safe, but bright, not just endurable but alive. I swallowed, the ache of missing him both sharp and strangely sweet. I glanced at Ashir and Savvas, both of them quiet, both surely thinking the same thing. “I wish Brais could see this,” I murmured. “He always used to say the jungle was meant for light and music, not secrets and scars. He believed the sun would find us again.” Ashir didn’t look away from Haera, but I saw his fist clench, saw the muscle in his jaw tighten. “He’s here. In the bond, in us. I feel him most when it’s like this. When we’re together, when we’re finally safe.” Savvas rolled onto his side, propping his chin on his palm. “That stubborn bastard. He’d be lecturing Taredd about how to properly handle warbugs, making the elves drink too much, and telling her she’s doing it all wrong just to get her to laugh.” That broke the heaviness and I laughed, blinking away the sting in my eyes. “He always hated to watch anyone give up, but he had no patience for anyone who didn’t fight for joy when they could.” A silence hung between us, full of shared memory. The ache of Brais’s loss was still there, but it was softer now, folded into the bond that pulsed between us and Haera. I’d carried his absence like a stone tied to my chest, but when Haera entered the bond, the weight dissolved. Not replaced, but redeemed. The love was still there, re-made, like sunlight after rain. “He’s part of this,” I said quietly. “I can feel it. In the way Haera shines when she’s happy, in the way we find each other in the bond. I think Brais chose her for us, or maybe he chose to watch over her so she’d find us. I think he’s at peace, seeing us whole.” Savvas drew a slow breath. “I think you’re right. For the first time, I don’t feel the hole anymore. It still hurts, but it’s different. We’re not walking wounded. We’re family. Whole, finally. Not because we forgot him, but because we carried him with us.” I watched Haera wave triumphantly from the warbug’s back, her face flushed with pride, and felt my heart settle. Yes. This was what home tasted like: sunlight, laughter, the shouts of children, the simple relief of living without fear. Our people were free. The elves were healing, relearning the world. Brais’s memory was not a wound, but a blessing. A bridge from who we’d been to who we could become. “I like to think he’s here, watching over us all. Maybe he even brought us together,” Ashir said. A ribbon of soul-light, deep, pure purple, brushed through the space between our hearts. It pulsed once, playful and comforting, then lingered like a blessing. We all fell silent, staring at each other. The hair on my arms prickled with awe. Savvas was the first to speak, voice hushed with wonder. “Did you feel it?” Ashir nodded, a slow smile dawning on his face. “Yeah. Purple. He’s here. He’s really here with us.” I swallowed hard, emotion thickening my voice. “He always did love to make an entrance.” My heart felt lighter than it had in years, the ache of his loss eased by that unmistakable thread of love. We stood together in the sunlight, letting that echo of Brais settle between us, as we watched Haera climb down, General Taredd clapping her on the back, the elves laughing and crowding around her in admiration. Our mate glowed, radiant with victory, shining with a freedom she’d been denied her whole life. In that moment, I felt a peace I’d never imagined possible, and a fierce, gentle grief for what we’d lost and what we’d finally gained. For the first time, I believed the gift would last. The jungle was ours, the future was open, and love—real, messy, enduring love—bound us all. Ashir’s hand gripped my shoulder, Savvas’s laughter wrapped around us, and the world felt right at last.
****************************** MAGIC CAGED BONUS SCENES Evindal when he first touched Gilda when she’s sent into Faerie in the magical shockwave blast. EVINDAL The forest pressed in from all sides, heavy with a silence that felt like accusation. Snow bit into my boots and wind clawed at my coat, freezing the sweat along my spine. Each step swallowed by drifts, the ancient trees a skeletal blur. I kept walking, even though every instinct screamed to turn back. Turn back, Evindal, there’s nothing for you here. There never is. That shockwave slammed through me like a hunter’s trap snapping shut. A soul-thread yanked taut so suddenly I nearly dropped to my knees. Taredd? For a second my head spun and the world tilted sideways, sick hope threatening to rise like bile. No. Couldn’t be. Taredd was gone. Lost, like everything else I’d ever let myself want. But the pull, just like desperate hope, wouldn’t let go. My skin crawled, everything inside me coiled tight around an aching emptiness I’d lived with for a thousand years. I found myself running, boots barely skimming snow, lungs burning. Each stride pounded questions into my skull. Was this a trick? Some trap laid by our enemies? Or fate come to fuck me, one more time for good measure. She lay in a hollow of blood-stained snow, so thin she hardly looked real. Ragged hair spilled over her face, tangled up in ice. A human girl. Just a slip of flesh and bone, lips blue and cracked, fingers curled tight as if even death would have to fight for her. Nothing about her made sense. No one survived out here. Not alone. I couldn’t move, and then all at once I couldn’t stop myself. I had to go to her. Anger burned cold in my gut. I hated the compulsion, hated the old familiar pressure building in my ribcage. Hope clawing at me like a parasite. I should have left her. Should have walked away, shut my heart and let the world take what little it hadn’t already stolen. But my boots crunched closer, and I realized I was shaking not from the cold, but from the fear that something inside me, some twisted part, was already reaching out to her, endless questions cycling in my head. How the fuck did you get here? Who sent you? Why do I even care? I knelt down over her. Her skin paled so thin I could see blue veins, lips split, eyelids fluttering. So close to death, but not gone. Not yet. I shouldn’t have touched her. I knew it even as I reached. My hand closed over her wrist, meaning to feel her last pulse, to confirm what the snow tried so hard to erase. The world ruptured. Heat surged up my arm, flooding my veins with acid and fire. I choked on a howl but bit it back, teeth gritted so hard pain spiked my jaw. Teal light blast to life as she forced the Change on me. Horror ripped through me as I shifted from male to griffon against my will. It meant only one thing. No. This is a mistake. Fate never gives, only takes. My mate. Found, after so long. Human. Dying. All wrong. My own heartbeat pounded in my ears, deafening. I saw her open her eyes, glassy, unfocused, lips moving in a strangled whisper I couldn’t decipher. A plea for help. Or mercy. Or death. And I did what I swore I wouldn’t do. I protected her. Because she is ours. Because the fate had finally found me and there was no escape. Pain paralyzed, then hollowed me. Hatred for the fate that would give me a mate only to rip her apart. Hatred for myself, because beneath the horror, my soul-thread burned with hunger. Desire, raw and unbearable. Wanting a human even as I mourned my bond brother, lost to us because of a human The bond sang in my blood, a siren call I could not ignore. I shook beneath the weight of it, fighting the need to claim, to mark, to possess. She is mine. Not by choice, never by choice. But the truth sinks in, cold and poisonous: I cannot turn away. I stared over her head, into the endless, frozen dark, and for the first time in a thousand years, I let myself break as she dies. SIVERIL The forest air crackled with something unnatural, a dissonant hum that pulled at my gut and made every hair on my arms lift. I ran, boots slipping on the crusted snow, the cold tearing at my lungs. The ache in my chest tightened with every step as if I was running toward a memory instead of reality. Evindal’s presence blazed ahead, filled with pain so sharp I tasted blood. I stumbled into the clearing and the world tipped sideways. Evindal crouched in the snow, shifted into his griffon, face locked in something cold and broken. He hovered over a body, so slight in the churned snow that she could have been a broken doll. My heart seized. Fear crashed into me, raw and immediate. Dead. He had found a human girl and death hung around her like a shroud, her skin almost translucent, hair matted to her cheeks. The kind of gauntness that came from suffering, not hunger. Her lips moved once, nothing more than a ghost’s breath. I fell to my knees, my hands reaching for her even as my brain screamed to hold back. My soul-thread vibrated, tight and hungry. I told myself it could not be. Not her. Not a human. Impossible. She did not even look alive. Evindal Changed back into his male form and glared at me, his eyes wild, his voice rough as stone. He recoiled from her like he was burned. “She’s human.” He spit the word like it was poison. “She should be dead.” My hands hovered over her before I could stop myself. I could not help it. The need to touch her, to give comfort, to give anything, rose like a tidal wave. I brushed a lock of dirty hair from her cheek. The skin beneath felt feverish, sweat and cold tangled together. She flinched beneath my fingertips, not quite awake, and the pain that flickered across her face gutted me. My soul-thread snapped into focus, a rush of blue. The bond flared, and the Change hit without warning. My bones cracked, my body twisted. I gasped, pain and ecstasy colliding as I was forced into my griffon form. Her eyes snapped open. The pure white of a mage, but something was wrong. Her gaze was distant. Unfocussed and she didn’t look at me. Just in my vicinity. She trembled, lips working but no words formed. She tried to move away from us, but she was too weak. Too panicked. Seeing her so broken, so thin, nearly lost to the world, made me want to tear through anything that threatened her. My gut twisted with protectiveness. I wanted to wrap her in my warmth, to hold her until she believed she was safe again, if she ever had been. But there was the horror too. She had been through hell. I could see every bruise, every hollow beneath her skin, every shudder as she tried to remember how to breathe. I wanted to scream for her, rage at whoever had left her in this state. Evindal would not look at her, his shoulders rigid, a sneer twisting his mouth. The rejection in his eyes cut through my joy, jagged and cold. How could he not feel her? How could he not want to gather her in his arms the way I did? I felt my hope tremble under his disdain. My mind spun. She was human, and in these woods that meant death if anyone else found her. Her scent marked her as prey, weak and different. Our kind would not hesitate. Suddenly the bond felt like both salvation and curse. How could I protect her here? How could I protect my heart when everything I had ever wanted was curled up broken in the snow at my feet? I cradled her close, tucking her head beneath my chin, shivering with the force of my need for her and my fear that this magic could destroy us all. My mate, found in the ruins, in the teeth of the winter. I ran my thumb over her cheek, memorizing every angle, promising the goddess that I would not let her go. She did not tell me anything, and I did not need her words. Her trembling, her silence, the haunted look in her eyes said more than any story ever could. I wanted to weep with relief and terror, for the miracle of her life and the threat it now carried. The bond sang through me, as bright and fragile as glass. I pressed my lips to her hair, whispering a promise meant for her ears alone. “I will keep you safe. I swear it. No matter what I have to do.” I doubted Evindal heard me, but it did not matter. I belonged to her now, for better or worse, and nothing—not fear, not the law, not death—would take her from me. TAREDD First Change in the Tundra where Siveril, Evindal and Gilda rush to save him. The wind screamed across the Tundra, carrying knives of ice that bit deep into my exposed skin. My feathers clung heavy with frost. Each step felt like dragging stone shackles through knee-deep snow. The world around me had shrunk to white and pain, the constant sting on my face and the hollow ache grinding into my bones. I tasted blood with every dry, frozen breath. I kept moving, searching, heart pounding with stubborn rhythm, but every inch forward cost more. I called for Evindal and Siveril in my mind, soul-thread aching with emptiness. I would give anything just to hear their voices again, to feel the warmth of their presence beside me instead of this punishing cold. For a thousand years I survived by imagining some day I would find them, that I would be whole again. Now, every frozen step threatened to steal that possibility away. My mind played tricks as I stumbled forward, boots slipping in the ice. Sometimes I saw Siveril, laughing as he used to, teasing me about my solemnity. Sometimes I heard Evindal’s sharp voice, always a challenge, always an anchor. But the wind swallowed everything. No tracks, no scent, only relentless white stretching into forever. Every time I fell, it felt easier not to get up. Night pressed in, a deeper chill, the promise of oblivion inching closer. Numbness crept up my legs. If I stopped walking I would freeze to death. My hands felt like they belonged to someone else. Each breath came slower, harsher, the cold gnawing at my will to fight. My heart cried out for my brothers, my bond a raw nerve stretched thin and fraying. When I finally collapsed, the snow met me like a lover, cold and inexorable. I curled in on myself, desperate to shield my core from the arctic bite. My thoughts slowed, memories dissolving into ice. I pictured Siveril’s smile, Evindal’s sneer softening when he thought I would not see. Was this how I ended, alone and frozen beneath a sky that cared for nothing but silence? Darkness claimed me. I drifted, barely aware of the scouring wind, the numbness settling deep in my chest. A distant hope fluttered weakly and faded. Whatever spark of magic I possessed flickered, guttered, and would soon be snuffed out. Then something pierced the stillness. A vibration in the air, a sound that did not belong. Footsteps, voices, the shudder of magic gathering, unfamiliar yet bright as sunrise slashing through cloud. Pain roared back into me. I fought to open my eyes, frost clinging to my lashes, the world swirling with spots and shadows. Suddenly, fire lanced through my body. A hand touched my ankle, small, shockingly warm, trembling with urgency. The jolt was pure agony and pure relief. Magic, wild and consuming, rocketed through my veins. My bones twisted, feathers bristling, every nerve screaming with the violence of the Change. I cried out, my voice warped into a predatory scream. Through the agony, I became aware of her. My mate. Her scent rushed into my head. The sweetness of desperation, sweat, and old pain. I knew her. Every thread of my soul screamed her name. Pink light burst in the corners of my vision, a soul-thread weaving tight around my heart. She was not a stranger. She was my mate. My heart hammered in my chest with a joy so fierce it threatened to break me in two. Heat flooded my ruined limbs, overwhelming the cold. I drew breath, truly breathing for the first time since the darkness claimed me. Her touch was everything. Salvation and shock, terror and promise all tangled together. My body knitted itself together, feathers giving way to skin and muscle. Whole and yet more changed than I had ever thought possible. I lifted my head from the snow and saw her standing before me in griffon form, sleek and wild and breathtaking. The gold of her feathers shimmered even in the cold light, streaks of silver and soft russet painting her wings. Her talons dug into the ice, muscles rippling beneath her plumage. She looked like something carved from the oldest dreams of kings. A legend brought to life, fierce and wounded and unimaginably beautiful. Her eyes blazed, deep and intelligent, but rimmed with terror. My soul leapt to meet her, the bond thrumming between us. I ached just to touch her, to lay my hand along the curve of her neck and promise her safety for all the days we might have. I forced my own transformation, my body folding down to bare skin, breath clouding in the air as I rose to my knees. The cold didn’t matter. Nothing did, except the need to see her as she truly was. I stretched out a hand, palm up in supplication. Every word lodged in my throat, thick with longing and awe. “Change,” I pleaded, voice raw. “Let me see you. Please,sweetheart. Be with me as you are.” She flinched, wings pulling tight to her body. Claws raked the snow, head ducking in fear. She made a broken sound, half-growl, half whimper, and backed away, never taking her eyes from mine. Each step she retreated cut deeper than any wound the war had ever given me. My heart stuttered, the joy at finding her curdling into grief. What had been done to this beautiful female to make her fear her own mate? Did she not feel the thread pulling us together, the ancient call blooming between our souls? Why would she shrink from me, when every instinct I carried ached to worship her, to lift her from the snow and build a sanctuary with nothing but my arms and my promise? Desperation clawed up my chest. I dropped to my hands, lowering myself, voice trembling with the weight of my hope and my heartbreak. “You know me. I am yours. I would never hurt you. Please, Change. Let me see you—let me see the true you. Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’m here for you.” She shuddered, breath visible in ragged gusts, but stayed small and closed, refusing the transformation, refusing me. I wanted to weep, to rage. I wanted to tear apart whoever had marked her with this terror. Suddenly, the air behind her darkened, crackling with sour magic. A man stepped from the darkness, face twisted in a mockery of a smile. Christian. The imposter. Hatred spiked in my blood. He positioned himself between me and my mate, his presence leeching all light from the snow. My teeth bared. A thousand years of loss and longing coiled in my gut, eclipsed by pure, blistering loathing. He dared to stand between me and the mate I’d waited for all eternity. Fury and protectiveness burned in my veins, iron and wildfire, ready to destroy anything that threatened her even if it meant tearing the world itself apart.
****************************** WOLF FATED Sarah As I sit in the beautiful office Mitch created just for me, I can't help but feel a wave of contentment wash over me. The clean, modern lines of the sleek desk and bookshelves fill me with a sense of peace and order. The plush, cream-colored carpet feels luxurious beneath my bare feet, and the soft leather of my chair cradles me like a gentle embrace. Through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, I gaze out at the lush forest that surrounds our home. Vibrant emerald leaves dance in the warm breeze, and golden sunbeams filter through the branches, casting dappled shadows across the room. The earthy scent of pine and moss drifts in through the cracked window, mingling with the crisp aroma of the pages in my notebook where I jot down random ideas and add to my to-do list as I write. The very essence of nature is infused into this space, inspiring me with every breath. Mitch, my thoughtful mate, has even set up wifi so I can research and connect with my beloved readers. The same readers who have made my first book, the one I poured my heart into after I’d run from my mate in my shock, an Amazon best-seller. It's incredible to think that so many people are captivated by the magic of fated mates and wolf shifter love stories. I understand their fascination all too well. After all, I wrote the book based on my own experiences with Mitch - the earth-shattering revelation that he was both a wolf shifter and my destined soulmate. He embodies everything I ever dreamed of in a partner, and so much more. A fated mate is a bond that transcends the physical, a melding of souls where every emotion and thought is shared. It's an alignment of values and needs so perfect, it's as if the universe itself conspired to bring us together. The attraction between us is electric, a sizzling current that ignites my skin with every touch. It goes beyond the physical - our connection is so profound, so all-encompassing, that there's no beginning or end. We are two halves of a whole, forever intertwined. In this blissful moment, surrounded by the tangible reminders of Mitch's love, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The warmth of the sun on my skin and the steady beat of my heart remind me that this is real, that I have found my forever home in his arms. With him by my side, I know that anything is possible, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for us. Even though I’m lost in my thoughts, a familiar tingle of anticipation courses through my veins. Mitch is on his way home from his duties as our packlands sheriff. We shared a cozy lunch together at Sally's Diner just a few hours ago, but I can sense his eagerness to see me again. His yearning to hold me close, to breathe in my scent, envelops me like a warm blanket. I know he's already planning our evening together - cooking dinner side by side, our laughter and conversation filling the kitchen, before we retire to our bedroom where he'll worship every inch of my body with his tender touch. My own desire mirrors his, a pulsing need that grows with each passing second. I don't think I'll ever get enough of my handsome, muscular wolf shifter mate. The memory of how I initially ran from him when he revealed his true nature fills me with a pang of shame, but it's quickly overshadowed by the depth of my love for him. Mitch’s presence fills the space and I turn just as he enters the room. His tall, imposing frame fills the doorway. No matter how many times I see him, the sight of him always makes my stomach flutter with excitement. As he strides towards me, my gaze drinks in every detail - his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his uniform, his trim waist, and his powerful thighs. A wave of arousal crashes over me, and I can feel an answering heat in his smoldering eyes. “How are you this afternoon, my mate.” In one smooth motion, he scoops me up as though I weigh nothing and settles into my desk chair with me cradled in his lap. His nose nuzzles the sensitive spot behind my ear, sending a shiver of delight through me as I giggle softly. Our bond hums with his enjoyment, and he murmurs that he feels the same irresistible pull towards me, his hands never straying far from my skin. His lips find the tender curve of my neck, trailing kisses that ignite a familiar fire within me. I melt against him, sighing in pleasure, but reluctantly push away after a moment. As much as I long to lose myself in his embrace, there's something weighing on my mind. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the question I know I must ask. "Have you spotted any more ferals recently?" His body tenses beneath me, and a wave of anguish washes over him through our bond. "One more, but he disappeared into Ironjaw packlands," he says, his voice strained. "It's getting worse, Sarah. I don't know how much longer we can go on like this." I nod, my heart aching for him and for our pack. The thought of culling more males who face the terrible fate of becoming feral because they haven't found their mate is a heavy burden on his shoulders. “This is a slow poison,” I murmur. So slow that no one noticed it until it had become a much larger problem. Mitch sighs, his arms tightening around me. "I feel the weight of it every day. The responsibility, the anxiety. I'm the first to find my fated mate in years, while others…” I know what he feels. Almost ashamed that he found his mate. That his prayers have been answered while others haven’t. Yet. Gently, I place my hand over Mitch's heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath my palm. I look into his eyes, willing him to feel my love and support. "You're a good man. A good alpha. I know you'll find the answer." He meets my gaze, his eyes filled with a profound sadness and I press all of my love and support into our bond. I have no doubt in his ability. If anyone will find the reason why Willowbrook has been cursed, and stop it, it will be him. "Do you have any idea why the Longtooth pack was cursed?" I ask. Mitch shakes his head, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him. "No one seems to know. Elara is helping us, but even she doesn’t understand why." Hope sparks in his eyes as he pulls me closer. "I'm so grateful I found you. You signal hope for the rest of the pack. Maybe more females will find their way to Willowbrook and find their mates. I want every male to be as happy as I am now, with you by my side." Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I feel the depth of his emotions through our bond - the pain he carries, the fierce determination to find answers, and the overwhelming gratitude for our love. I lean in, capturing his lips in a gentle, reassuring kiss. As we part, I rest my forehead against his, our breaths mingling. "If anyone can unravel the mystery, it's you, Mitch," I tell him, my conviction unwavering. "And I'll be right there with you, every step of the way. We'll find the answers, together." Mitch's gaze drifts to the computer screen, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "How's the book progressing?" he asks, his voice warm with interest. I smile, leaning back against his chest. "I'm up to the part where the hero reveals himself to be a wolf shifter." His eyes flash with mischief, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "And what will your heroine do when he does?" I laugh softly, tracing my fingers along his jawline. "She's going to freak out, of course. It's only natural when a person learns about a whole new sub-species. But then they start to bond, and soon she'll want nothing more than to sink into his arms as he holds her tight." As if on cue, Mitch tightens his embrace, pulling me flush against him. "Would she feel something like this?" he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. A shiver of desire runs down my spine, and I chuckle, my voice low and teasing. "Oh, things will get a lot more heated between my hero and heroine before I'm through with them. They'll be well and truly mated by the end of the book." "Your readers are going to love it," Mitch declares, his confidence in me unwavering. I nod, a small smile playing on my lips. "I hope so. There's always a small bit of doubt, but I also know that books are very subjective. They can't be everyone's cup of tea all the time. I just hope this one ticks my readers' boxes and whisks them away for a few hours while they fall in love with their book boyfriend, the way I've fallen in love with my real-life man." Mitch's eyes soften, and he presses a tender kiss to my temple. I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. "I've been mulling an idea through my head," I confess. "What's that?" he asks, his interest piqued. "I think Willowbrook needs a bookstore," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I know they have a library, but they also need books from indie writers who might not register with the library network. I meet a lot of authors online, and they'd be interested in putting their stock on my shelves. I would have a small cafe where people can read sections of books they like or rest in an environment filled with books. I'd have book clubs in the evening, and I'd set up a space to write while I employ some of the teens that would like work experience." I pause, biting my lip. "I'm toying with the idea of naming it Wolf's Haven Books, to match the other business names." Mitch's joy resounds through me, his enthusiasm infectious. I can't help the wide smile that spreads across my face. "I love the idea," he exclaims, his eyes bright with excitement. "The perfect place for it would be next to the Sheriff's office. You could work, and I could come over and see you whenever I wanted to." He leans back, his gaze distant as he envisions the future. "It would be the perfect environment for you and would also be good for Willowbrook. I can see it in my head now, and you'll be a great success." A wicked glint enters his eye, and he leans in close, his voice a husky whisper. "We can meet in the storeroom, and I can ravage you senseless." I tap his steel-like bicep, pretending to be shocked. "Everyone will know what we'll be doing in there. A wolf shifter's sense of smell is very acute." I pause, a sly smile curving my lips. "But I also love the idea." The truth is, I can't keep my hands off him. So I don't try. I lean in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, pouring all the love I feel for him into our bond. He returns it, the intensity of our combined love filling my chest with a radiant light. In this moment, I know with absolute certainty that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. I'm happy here, in Willowbrook, with my mate by my side. Mitch's hands roam over my body, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touch. His kisses grow more urgent, more demanding, as he slowly peels away my clothing, his lips worshiping every inch of newly exposed skin. I'm lost in a haze of sensation, my world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on my heated flesh, the whisper of his breath against my ear. He settles me on the edge of my desk, stepping between my parted thighs. I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me, and I ache with need. With a single, powerful thrust, he enters me, stretching me deliciously around his impressive girth. We move together, our bodies perfectly in sync, as if we were made for each other. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing over me, building and building until I'm teetering on the edge of oblivion. Mitch's eyes lock with mine, the depth of his love and devotion shining through, and it's enough to send me tumbling over the precipice. I shatter in his arms, my release triggering his own, and we cling to each other as we ride out the aftershocks. As we catch our breath, Mitch presses a tender kiss to my forehead, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Dinner might be a little late tonight," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice. I laugh softly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "I think we can live with that, just this once."