Hahaha! Mrs. Christian in the barn with the iron skillet! Well played game of Werewolf Clue.
I stared down at Claire’s unconscious body, my mind racing with all the possible outcomes that could have come from tonight. What would she have done if she hadn’t been taken down so quickly? Shot me? Shot Alex? Would she have found and hurt Tristan? The thought sent a wave of protective fury through me, and I had to take a slow, deep breath to keep from growling. I wasn’t just angry at her. I was angry at myself for not sensing the threat sooner and for not being more prepared. I’d spent years training for danger, always being vigilant. Yet, somehow, I’d not even considered Claire a threat, let alone be involved in any of this. I always believed that Claire was, at best, a petty, selfish woman with a chip on her shoulder. That she was a coward and otherwise someone unworthy of being Tristan’s mother. I hadn’t realized she would be a real danger, not just a nuisance of the past. That mistake wouldn’t happen again. “Are you all right, Holly?” Mary’s voice broke through my thoughts. I
When Holly placed her hand over mine, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease just a fraction. It wasn’t much, but even the smallest reprieve felt like a lifeline. My grip on the coffee mug loosened, but I didn’t let go. I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t allowed myself to process it yet. Claire was back, not as some long-lost parent seeking redemption but as a threat armed with wolfsbane-tipped rounds and a dagger. She hadn’t come here for him. She hadn’t even come here for me. Her target had been Holly. And that infuriated me as much as it terrified me. I forced myself to breathe through it, focusing on the warmth of Holly’s hand against mine. I wanted to keep holding on, but the sound of the transport unit’s doors slamming shut outside yanked me back to the moment. Claire was secured for now. Logan and Aurelia were speaking in hushed tones near the front door. Their patrol unit was moving with practiced efficiency as they checked windows and reinforced security. The weight of the situation
As Alex pulled into the driveway, something felt off. The patio light was on, casting its usual glow, but the door hung ajar. A cold unease crawled up my spine. Alex tensed beside me. “Stay in the truck,” he ordered Tristan. Tristan frowned. “But…” “No, Tristan.” Alex was stern. Alex reached for the door, but I gripped his arm. “We go in together.” He nodded. We both knew this wasn’t just a break-in. Someone had sent a message. ‘Cowards. I want blood.’ Kira snarled. ‘No one threatens our mate and pup.’ We stepped out cautiously, boots crunching on gravel. The scent of Claire and strangers—human and wolf—hit me hard. The house had been compromised. Alex pushed the door open. We froze. The place was ransacked. Drawers yanked out, furniture overturned, shattered family photos. Claire’s scent lingered, mixed with unfamiliar masculine human and werewolf all around. “Dad?” Tristan’s voice came from the truck. “Stay put,” I reminded him. His worried eyes darted toward the chaos. Ale
I woke to the scent of coconut and jasmine, Holly’s shampoo, but the tranquility I felt was deceptive. Claire had ransacked my home, and things could have been worse if not for Mary. I tried to clear the tightness in my chest. Holding Holly last night had steadied me; she was mine, regardless of our circumstances. But as morning arrived, so did the reality we had to face. There would be no lazy day on the farm. After feeding the animals, we headed to Bloodmoon. Upon arrival, the tension was palpable; the packhouse felt like a fortress bracing for an attack. With more people on alert than usual, it was clear Aurelia and Logan were preparing for a fight. I was grateful they would stand for me despite me not being a werewolf or an official member. Tristan walked a step ahead of us. His shoulders squared in that way that reminded me too much of myself. He hadn’t spoken much since we left the farm, but I knew he was sorting through everything, just like I was. I only hoped spending time
The weight of Charles’ words pressed down on my chest like an iron bar. You need to see it for yourself. I barely realized I was holding my breath as John and Sarael entered the room. John carried a manila envelope, the kind that made my stomach twist because I knew—I knew—whatever was inside wasn’t good. Sarael’s face was set in a grim mask as she placed her fingertips against the envelope’s surface—a ripple of energy spread from the point of contact, something ancient, something otherworldly. “It was hidden,” she said, voice low and steady, “Under layers of suppression magic. Hunters are clever. They know how to keep their secrets buried.” She turned her piercing gaze toward Alex. “But this one was meant to be found.” Alex didn’t hesitate. He reached for the envelope and something slid out, landing face-up on the table—a photograph. My stomach clenched. A family picture. Alex, Tristan, and Alex’s parents. It had been taken years ago when Tristan was small enough to be carried
The air grew colder as we descended deeper into Bloodmoon’s underground holding cells. Lined with reinforced silver bars and spelled wards, the walls hummed with latent energy. Even without being a wolf, I could feel it—a warning and a deterrent wrapped into one. Logan walked ahead, his frame compact but powerful, moving with the ease of someone bred for battle. His scruffy beard twitched as his jaw clenched. He wasn’t looking forward to this any more than I was. At the base of the stairs, Logan approached the high-tech security panel. A retina scanner flickered to life, scanning his eye before granting access with a soft beep. Only those approved could enter, ensuring no prisoner could escape, no matter their abilities. The heavy steel door unlocked with a resonant clank. The scent of cold stone and damp air washed over me as it swung open. Inside, dim, magical lighting cast eerie shadows along the corridor. The cells, reinforced with a combination of technology and hunter tricks,
Knowing Alex’s parents would be safe and far from all this mess had been a relief. Even if Alex hadn’t taken Aurelia and Persephone at their word, his parents excitedly called him a few moments later, asking him to keep an eye on things at their house and with the business. They apologized for suddenly leaving and hoped he and Tristan wouldn’t mind finding alternate childcare while they went on their impromptu vacation. With their safety secured, we left Logan, Aurelia, and Persephone to their pack tasks and searched for our boys—yes, I said our boys. Claire’s resurgence might have triggered the protective mom in me, but I knew that if I accepted Alex, that meant accepting Tristan. Honestly, it was easier for my heart and mind to accept Tristan and want to protect him as fiercely as I do Samuel than to accept Alex. I’d been worried about explaining the situation to Samuel and the most recent escalation of events to Tristan. I didn’t need to be concerned. We found them outside the p
We all headed inside—eager to be out of the late summer heat and potential prying eyes. Sure, the house was set far back, but if the hunters had set up Davis and Loretta’s deaths, they knew about the farm. Someone could, and likely are, be watching the property from a distance as we speak. Not creepy at all. I'll be so much happier and less on edge when Benton and his entire operation are put down like the rabid fucktards they are. Everyone moved toward the living room, settling into the comfortable seating around the fireplace. Holly sat beside Samuel on the sofa while Tristan took the seat on the arm of the armchair I occupied. Isis and Khalid remained standing, their sharp gazes taking in every detail of the space before finally settling on Holly and me. We’d all moved inside to discuss what John and Sarael’s team had done on the property. “We used a combination of old-world hunter tricks and some modern magic,” Sarael began, folding her arms as she leaned against the back of a c
I… I have a wolf. I, Alexander Michael Whitland, the HUMAN among werewolves, have a WOLF! My mind was blown at the thought of being anyone’s mate, let alone Holly’s second chance, and now this. Everything about last night still feels surreal, from the marking, seeing Nigel, to him giving me Leo because the Goddess lost a BET, and shifting for the first time. My brain is still overloaded.‘You’re the excitable sort still, I see.’ Leo commented as Holly and I returned to the farm after packing camp.‘Oh, come on, dude. You barely knew me before you died. I’ve totally grown up since then. You’re in my head; you have access to my memories. You should know I’m not the same boy that had a crush on your mate,’ I huffed.‘Uh-huh. I don’t know how much has changed from what I’ve absorbed from your memories. You dipped your dick in crazy and lucked out to get a good kid out of the deal.' He snorted.'I’ll give you credit, though. You’ve put in the work to train hard and to raise your boy. You r
I gasped as reality slammed back into me. The weight of my body pressed into the earth, and Alex on top of me, his skin damp with sweat against mine. His breath was hot and ragged against my throat, his chest rising and falling in uneven shudders. We were back. The air was thick with the scent of earth, pine, and sex. The cool night breeze contrasted with the burning intensity inside me, but I barely noticed. I could still feel the bond between us—woven into our very beings, humming beneath our skin, connecting us in an ancient, irrevocable way. I sensed the swirl of emotions stirring in Alex’s mind through our bond. Alex groaned, his forehead pressing against mine as he exhaled a shaky breath. “Holy shit.” His voice was hoarse, rough from what we’d just done. I swallowed hard, my arms still wrapped around him, clinging to him as if letting go would break the spell. Our mating had been anything but ordinary. What we’d just done wasn’t ordinary, even with Alex being human. It wa
Holly’s lips were fire against mine, burning away every hesitation, every lingering doubt. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t fragile. Not here, not with her. None of the chaos that’s happened recently mattered. Tonight wasn’t about any of that. Tonight was about us coming together and making this official. Or at least official in the eyes of the supernatural community Her body pressed against mine, soft curves molding against me, igniting something primal, something I’d kept buried for too long. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, breathy little sounds escaping her lips between each hungry meeting of our mouths. I wanted to hear more of those sounds. I shifted, rolling her beneath me, the thin sleeping bag doing little to shield us from the cool bite of the earth beneath it. The rough texture of dirt and grass pressed against my forearms, grounding me in this moment, this night, this woman. Holly’s hands slid beneath my shirt, her nails dragging lightly along my stomach, se
The evening air carried a whisper of cool and crisp autumn against my skin as I fastened the leather straps on my saddle. The scent of pine and earth wrapped around me, mingling with summer’s faint, lingering musk. As the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, the sky stretched wide, painted in gold, orange, and deep purple streaks. We had enough time to reach our campsite before nightfall, where we’d picnic under the new moon. Tonight, everything would change. ‘Stop overthinking,’ Kira’s voice purred through my mind, firm but affectionate. ‘It’s happening. It’s always been meant to happen.’ I exhaled slowly, steadying my hands against the saddle horn. Had it? It had only been a little over two weeks since the fight—two weeks since Benton was finally dead. Since the war he had waged against me, my pack and my family had come to a brutal, bloody end. But the fight wasn’t over. Brendán O’Brion was still out there. And we were no closer to knowing who had sent Benton after me. I cle
I hate feeling useless. And you don’t get more useless than being laid up in a hospital bed for TWO fucking weeks. I had to hear secondhand about all the shit that’s gone down since I was injured. Benton is dead. Holly indirectly killed the fucknugget when interrogating him. Bitch folded like a piece of paper when he realized my wildflower was deadly serious about peeling his skin like an app. My mate is hard fucking core. He gave up the name of the fucker who put me in the hospital, the sadistic son of a bitch that would’ve killed my boys. Brendán O’Brion. It’s too bad that was the only name he gave before he went up in flames. I mean that, literally. The asswipe had these magically infused tattoos intended to protect him, but apparently, whoever did the spell-casting neglected to mention it also gave them backdoor control to silence him if necessary. They didn’t care that he gave up the assassin’s name, but his tattoos burst into flames when he was about to tell us who was
Oh, I was more than ready to beat answers out of Benton. But why had Finn and Logan called me in? They could make that pissant talk, especially if Logan let Jericho out. I changed into Alison’s training gear—I wasn’t ruining her fancy clothes with Benton’s filthy blood. After ensuring Samuel and Tristan were safe with Alison and Colby, I headed to the cells with John and Clarence. The last time I was here, Claire was the only prisoner. Now, the twenty-five-cell prison was filled. I was shocked so many survived the two-front battle. I glanced at the hunters and werewolves in their Bloodmoon red jumpsuits as we walked. They all looked broken, haunted. Logan and Finn had already worked them over, if I had to guess. Some sat huddled on their cots, rocking, muttering about monsters. Whatever they’d seen had shattered them. “What happened to the ones incoherently whimpering about various monsters?” I asked. John slowed and glanced at one of the pathetic masses, who looked like he needed a
I never want to experience that again. I broke when Nigel died. I don’t know if I was fully reassembled when I met Alex again. I’d only just started to feel whole again since accepting this new fate. To hear that Alex was hospitalized while protecting our boys nearly broke me. It’s a damn good thing he’s still alive. I don’t know what would’ve happened if he died. I don’t know if Samuel and Tristan would be enough to keep me and Kira together. I don’t know if the boys would be sufficient to keep me from going feral or just straight-up dying. We weren’t mated yet, but I felt it in my bones. If Alex hadn’t survived, I might not have either. If I’d managed to live through losing yet another mate in battle, I knew I’d go feral. I’d hunt down that masked fucker who took Alex from me to the ends of the earth. I wouldn’t stop till I had snapped his fucking neck. Even if it meant I would die, too. I’d leave the boys in the care of people I could trust, and I’d hunt that bastard till one of
Pain. A deep, dragging ache coiled through my chest, sharp and unrelenting. It pulsed with every shallow breath, reminding me with each dull throb that I was still here. I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. An antiseptic smell filled my nose—sharp, sterile, and far too familiar—Bloodmoon’s hospital. I've been here my share after training injuries, even woke up here once or twice after getting knocked out in a sparing fight. I wasn’t dead. Barely. Fragments of memory clawed their way to the surface, jagged and disjointed. The boys voices—urgent, terrified. A figure in the shadows. The masked man was lunging toward me. The deafening crack of a gunshot. Then, nothing. A presence near the bed made me shift slightly, and immediately, pain flared deep and raw beneath the bandages wrapped tight across my chest. A hiss escaped through my teeth. “Yeah, don’t do that,” a familiar voice muttered. I turned my head, grimacing at the effort, every mov
Benton grinned up at me, blood smeared across his lips like some twisted badge of honor. He thought this was a game. This mother fucker thought that he could get away with threatening my pack and family. He thought wrong. I’d ensure he paid for his arrogance, preferably with his life. He moved first, twisting his body in an attempt to throw me off before he even got to his feet. I didn’t let him. I already knew what he was going to do. The second his weight shifted, I countered, adjusting with the precision of instinct, my body reacting before my mind could fully register it. I had seen moves like his before—I had learned, memorized, and mastered them. Benton was a skilled fighter, but so was I. And unlike him, I didn’t fight for sport. I fought to protect. He managed to twist to the side, trying to escape my hold. I let him think it was working. Then, I struck just as he shifted his weight to push off the ground. I moved with him, using his momentum against him as I slammed my elbo