All Chapters of What A Wolf Desires: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

She smelled them before she hit the first stair leading up to her thirdfloor apartment.She gripped the railing and tilted her head, testing their scents—sifting through the subtle differences that made each one unique. Five males —two of them familiar. The mix of peppermint and lemon-lime energy drink belonged to her cousin, Remy Arsenault. The more understated pine-andleather combo could only be Dominic Prado, Remy’s best friend. The other three were strangers.She eased down into a slight crouch and calculated the distance from the building to her car.Even if she made it, Lizette Butler knew today was going to be a very bad day. She took a deep breath, tensed, and prepared to run.“Don’t,” a deep, rich voice said from behind her apartment door. The low, almost hypnotic tone could only belong to Dom. “You won’t get far,” he added.Anger boiled up. She surged to her feet. The metal railing under her hand made a pained squealing noise as it bent. She lifted her hand away and careful

Dom swung around and pinned her with a no-nonsense stare. A human would instantly peg him as military, although wolves rarely bothered to insert themselves into human conflicts. And anyway, Dom didn’t need weapons to assert his will. Rumor had it he was directly descended from the Capitoline Wolf in Rome. Humans spent so much time arguing about the statue’s age and origins, they never got around to wondering if there was any reality behind the ancient myth.Lizette knew better. Dom might not be related to the fierce she-wolf who’d suckled the founder of Rome, but he was a formidable opponent. Although it rankled, she wasn’t about to test him. If she’d learned anything over her years of dealing with testosterone-poisoned males, it was to pick her battles. And this was just a skirmish. The real battle lay two hundred miles north, in a tiny town steps from the Canadian border.If she had to concede defeat, she was going to do it on her own terms— and before someone got blood on her area

Remy tapped the side of his head. “Besides, I need the practice.”“For what?”“Most of the time, I can only talk mind-to-mind with other telepaths, but lately I’ve been able to send to anyone.” He narrowed his eyes. “Pretty cool, huh?” His voice flooded her mind as if he’d shouted into her ear with a megaphone.“Whoa.” She put a knee against the dresser to steady herself. “Warn me before you do that again, okay?” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her brain, even though she’d learned in freshman psychology class that the brain actually lacks nerve endings. Tell that to someone with chronic migraines.“Sorry.” He didn’t look the least bit guilty. “I’m still learning to control the volume.”“No worries.” She moved into the en suite bathroom to gather some toiletries. She crouched in front of her vanity and plucked a shampoo bottle off the bottom shelf.“Ready?” Remy’s voice floated from the bedroom.No. Never.She stood and caught her reflection in the antique mir

The problem had even spilled over from werewolf society and trickled down into the human world. Every now and then news headlines told of a madman or killer who’d committed some unspeakable crime. In some cases, it was just a random crazy human. But in others it was a latent who’d lost his or her grip on reality, and the local Alpha would dispatch a group of wolves to quietly take care of the problem.In the morning the human police would find the defendant hanged in his cell. Was it murder? Yes, but it was too risky to allow those wolves to live.The human word lunatic was a lot closer to the truth than most people realized.At first Haley’s guardians thought she might simply be a late bloomer. But when puberty came and went and she still hadn’t Turned, they were desperate. So they sent her to Lizette, hoping some time with another female around her own age might relieve some of the Haley’s anxieties. What if she never Turned? Latents often lived a sort of half-life. Cut off from the

The sound ripped through her like a thunderclap, and her knees almost gave out. She clenched her fists and pressed her fingernails into her palms—a trick she learned from Dom. The pain steadied her. She pushed the door open……and locked gazes with the Alpha. Her Alpha. Maxime Alexandre Simard.He sat behind his desk, his posture relaxed. A lord in command of his domain.And in the werewolf world, that’s exactly what he was.The first time she saw him was in the back of a Los Angeles County courtroom. Her caseworker had called her foster parents the day before, breathless, saying a relative had come forward—a distant cousin of Lizette’s mother. He was flying in from New York and would be there the next day to file the paperwork.In court he wore a charcoal gray suit and a dark blue tie. His jacket sleeves rode up when he shook her foster father’s hand, exposing his shirt cuffs and the strange metal jewelry he wore there instead of buttons. When she slid past him to climb into the limo,