In a world of monsters, the real danger is falling for one. After the tragic loss of his fiancée, journalist Elliot Harper has spent years burying his pain behind the hard facts of his small town reporting. But when strange animal attacks and claw marks stir suspicion in his mountain community, Elliot is drawn to investigate... and he finds more than he bargained for. Elliot can't resist taking the injured man he finds in the woods to his cabin, just to discover that his new houseguest, Damien, holds a dark secret. Damien is a rogue werewolf, hunted by his own pack and bound by ancient laws that forbids him from mingling with humans. But how can he stay away from his own mate? As the two grow closer, their connection stirs something dangerous and powerful within them. But despite the thrill of uncovering the supernatural world, Elliot’s curiosity teens deadly when he learns that Damien’s past may be tied to the darkest moment of his own. Elliot must decide if he wants to confront his fears and embrace this new power he never wanted... or abandon Damien to the deadly pack that's closing in on them.
View MoreDamien."We need to talk."It was one thing for someone to barge into someone's house, neighbour or not. It was another thing for said person to come after a person eating dinner and minding their own business.The tension in the dining room was suffocating. The burly man, Ryan, stood close to the doorway, his shoulders blocking out the light. His eyes were still locked on mine, and I felt the weight of it as though it could crush me where I sat.Elliot’s family watched warily, their smiles vanishing. I would have given a million bucks to know what was going on in their mind."I said," Ryan repeated, his tone low and deliberate. "We need to talk, Damien."Elliot bristled beside me, his chair scraping the floor as he stood. "What the hell is going on? Who are you?" His voice was like sharpened knives. Ryan didn't spare him a glance. His focus was entirely on me, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. "You know who I am, kid."My stomach twisted.I didn't know thi
Damien.I didn't feel much better the next morning.No matter how much I tried to convince myself that I was probably imagining things, and I couldn't probably have gutted a random girl in the street of New York.Not even a little.My stomach was a tangled mess of nerves, excitement, and uncertainty as Elliot drove us to his childhood home deeper in the city of New York.I had no idea what to expect from meeting his family... what kind of impression I would make, and whether they would accept me.But as much as I hated to be introduced as just a friend, part of me was eager to just see the life he had grown up in, to understand him a little better.Elliot tightened his hand on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road. He looked different today... a bit more casual, no more of the anxiety filled, heightened senses, intense persona he'd been wearing.He looked lighter, almost... happy.It made me want to reach out, slam my lips on those perfect lips, and continue our activity from yester
Damien.This probably wasn't the best time for this.I didn't kiss Elliot because I wanted to. Not that I didn't want to, but not when he was confessing his guts out about what happened to his dead fiancée five years ago.That wouldn't be fair. Not to him. Not to me. But he was so close.His lips trembling with each word, his breath ragged as if the weight of the past was too much to carry on his own.And his eyes... moon goddess, his eyes... they were darker than usual, filled with so much pain that I could feel it in my own chest.And yet... all I could think about was how much I wanted him.Maybe it wasn't the best time. Maybe it was a terrible idea.But the way he looked at me, the way he leaned into me when I touched his face, it felt like an invitation I couldn't turn away from.I cupped his jaw, brushing my thumb over the stubble on his chin, the action almost instinctive. This wasn't the first time we kissed. He had a whole mark on his neck from me.But it just felt right.
Elliot."You can't possibly know that."I pushed Damien's hand off my shoulder, barely sparing him a glance. "Leave me alone.""Elliot...""Just... please." I didn't wait for a response, ducking out of the restaurant and into the streets.I heard Damien's footsteps behind me at first, his steady, relentless presence tracking me, but I didn't turn around.He'd catch on eventually. I just needed space.My feet took me though blocks and alleys without thought, my mind whirling with everything Ethan had thrown at me, every accusation he'd nailed to my skin. I didn't care where I was going, as long as I was alone.Everything...The neon lights outside an old boutique caught my eye, and I stopped, hesitating. This was her boutique.The one she dragged me to whenever she could. One she loved.How did I make it here?I knew every inch of the store... each table, every display, the delicate scent of lavender that lingered on everything she’d brought back from it on the days she didn't drag m
Elliot."Ethan, enough!"The walls here felt like they were closing in on me the moment I heard Ethan’s voice. His eyes, so similar to mine in shade but hardened with something darker, held a glint of satisfaction at catching me off guard and making me lose my marbles.The asshole.I felt Damien's hand under the table, firm on my knee, grounding me. But my heart was already pounding so hard, and my grip on the glass of water tightened as I forced myself to meet my brother’s eyes."I'll meet them when I'm ready." I managed, voice barely above a whisper."When you're ready, huh?" Ethan laughed exactly like he did when we were younger. Mockingly. He drew curious glances from a few tables nearby. "That shouldn't surprise me. It also wouldn't surprise me if you never showed up. That's your specialty."The words sliced through me, unearthing memories I'd tried to bury. Damien's hand tightened on my knee, but it did nothing to soften the impact. My throat had closed up, my mind already spir
Damien.The moment we crossed into New York, I could feel the tension building in Elliot.His body had gone rigid beside me, his fingers clenched tightly into the fabric of his jeans.His face was drawn, mouth a thin line as he stared straight ahead, his eyes wide, darting from side to side like he couldn't keep up with everything.“Elliot.” I kept my voice calm, steady. “You okay?”His shoulders twitched, but he didn't answer, his eyes flicking to the blaring car horn, the flashing billboards, the sea of people moving like a torrent down the side walks.It was rush hour, and every sound seemed amplified.I could feel Elliot's pulse racing just by looking at him. "Damien," he finally whispered, voice trembling. "It's… it’s too much. It’s..."His words cut off as a siren blared behind us, and he clamped his hands over his ears, wincing. I watched his face go pale, his eyes glassy as he tried to steady himself.I was so glad we changed positions earlier when he complained of cramps."A
Damien."Two weeks. No more."Frank's truck was actually not what I had expected. It wasn't a beat-up old thing that reeked of stale cigarettes and sweat.There weren't food wrappers and coffee mugs littered around.It was clean. Smelled like lavender with very comfortable seats.Which, in turn, made me very uncomfortable. But the moment Elliot slid into the driver’s seat, his hands curling around the steering wheel, I felt something strange... almost like I was where I was supposed to be.Frank had thrown the keys at him with a hard look, grumping. "Nothing should happen to it, Elliot. And if you dare extend this so-called break with a minute, I'll consider you as good as gone. I'm already hanging by a thread with the last break you took."He'd walked off with barely another word, but I hadn't missed the anger in his eyes when he glanced back at me.After all, I made him give Elliot his truck."Ready?" Elliot’s voice brought me back. He was watching me, eyebrows raised, as if he cou
Elliot.The next morning came in a haze of soft, warm light filtering through the thin curtains.The world outside was quiet, as though it respected the fragile calm that was within me.Damien left earlier.Perhaps to do some light hunting or other werewolf stuff.It gave me time to let my fingers grazed where he had marked me last night. A reminder of the bond we had forged... another reminded that Damien and I were actually mates."One cannot mark someone who is not their mate." A line from the book jumped at me.I was lost in the sensation, the dull ache of the mark that seemed to reach deeper than the skin.My hand lingered there, pressing against the slight swell of soreness when the door opened, and in walked Damien, a wolfish smile tugging at his lips.His eyes drifted immediately to my hand resting on the mark."Does it hurt?" He asked, concern lacing his voice."A little," I admitted, trying not to sound too vulnerable. "But it's... manageable."He sat down on the edge of the
Elliot.I didn't know who moved first... me or Damien.But as we stood there, staring at each other, all I felt was an ache, sharp and relentless, pulling me closer.Damien’s hand rested on my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin as if he needed the reassurance that I was here, real, and wanting him.I pressed my hand over his, and that simple touch seemed to ignite something within me. I leaned in, unable to resist, my lips finding his in a kiss that was at first hesitant.It didn't matter that we shared a kiss just minutes earlier.This one felt different.His mouth parted, his breath mingling with mine, and every nerve in my body sparked to life.I needed this right now.I needed not to be able to feel. To sense anything.With my hands gripping his shirt, I pulled him closer, clinging to him as if I could anchor myself in the storm of emotions and senses that threatened to swallow me.My new heightened senses had a mind of their own. Switching on and off when I least expected it, like
Elliot. There was nothing more heartbreaking than working on the anniversary of your fiancee’s death. I stood by the kitchen window, my eyes fixed on the mountain view bathed in the early morning mist. It was as cold and unyielding as the five years since Janice’s death. Every morning began the same... coffee, silence, and the ache of what I lost. Most days, that was exactly how I liked it. “Harper, where’s my damn article?” A voice rang through the phone sitting next to me, breaking the quiet. Shit. I grabbed it, already rolling my eyes as I saw my editor’s name on the screen. I pressed the answer button. “Good morning to you too, Frank.” “No time for pleasantries. I need that piece on the roadwork finished today. The mayor’s been breathing down my neck about public safety since the logging trucks started using the main street. And don’t even get me started on the wildfire complaints” Frank was always the sweet one. And I enjoyed talking to him. “Roadwork? Thrilling.” I said
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