Novels by Divine. E

Vivian POVMy head feels like it’s splitting open, a dull throb that drags me out of a dark, dreamless void. I’m on the floor, the kitchen tile cold and unyielding against my cheek, and the air smells like shattered glass and something wild—like pine and earth, but sharper, more alive, like a forest after a storm. My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I see is him. Tyler Grayson, kneeling in front of me, his green eyes glowing with a worry that makes my chest ache in a way I don’t understand. Then it all comes rushing back—the creature at the window, its yellow eyes glinting with hunger, the way Tyler… changed. He turned into a wolf. A massive, dark-furred wolf with those same green eyes. My breath catches, a sharp gasp, and I scramble back, my hands slipping on the tile as panic claws up my throat, raw and suffocating.I’m Vivian Harper, the girl who hides in books and shadows, the one who’s never been special, never been anything but ordinary. This can’t be real. But the broken

Tyler POV That howl wasn’t one of ours, and it’s got my blood running cold. I’m on my bike, the engine’s growl a poor match for the sound still echoing in my head—low, haunting, and wrong. It’s not a pack call, not a hunter’s trick. It’s something older, something that doesn’t belong in Westbridge, and it’s calling for her. Vivian Harper. My mate. The realization hits harder than it should, a pull in my chest I can’t ignore, even as I gun the throttle and tear down the empty streets toward her scent.I’m Tyler Grayson, future alpha of the Crescent Pack, and I’m supposed to have this under control. Find the lost wolf, bring her back—that’s what the elders said. They didn’t mention she’d be a shy girl with hazel eyes that see too much, or that her scent would wake something in me I can’t tame. I didn’t plan on feeling this… protective. But that howl, the way it cut through the night like a blade—it’s not just a warning. It’s a hunt, and Vivian’s the prey.I skid to a stop a block from

Vivian POVThe streetlights flicker as I hurry home, Tyler Grayson’s words clawing at my mind like a song I can’t unhear. “You’re not what you think you are.” What does that even mean? My sneakers slap the pavement, the rhythm too fast, too frantic, matching the hum buzzing under my skin. It hasn’t stopped since I left the field, that strange, electric pulse that feels alive, like it’s trying to break free. I’m Vivian Harper, the girl who fades into the background at Westbridge High, not someone with secrets worth cryptic warnings. But as the sky darkens, the air heavy with the scent of rain and something wilder, I’m not so sure.I’m a block from home when a sound freezes me in my tracks—a howl, low and haunting, slicing through the dusk. It’s not a dog, not a coyote. It’s something deeper, something that makes the hum in my veins surge so hard I gasp, clutching my chest. My head whips toward the woods across the field I just left, their shadowy edges barely visible in the fading ligh

Tyler POVHer scent hits me like a punch, wild and raw, even as she stands there, frozen, staring at me like I’ve grown fangs. Vivian Harper doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the reason I’m in this nowhere town, playing high school hero when I should be running with my pack. Those hazel eyes of hers are wide, scared, but there’s a spark in them—something alive, waking up. I shouldn’t have said it. “You’re not what you think you are.” Too much, too soon. But standing in that field, with her scent screaming mate, I couldn’t stop myself.I’m Tyler Grayson, and I’m in over my head.The wind picks up, cutting through Westbridge’s damp air, and I force myself to step back. Vivian’s still rooted to the grass, her backpack slung low, like she’s deciding whether to run or fight. Smart girl. Most people would’ve bolted by now, but she’s holding her ground, even if her voice shakes when she speaks.“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, sharp enough to cut through my thoughts.I hesitate. The tr

Vivian POVSomething’s off today, like the air’s holding its breath. It’s not just the rain clouds smothering the sky or the way my sneakers stick to Westbridge High’s polished floors. There’s a hum under my skin, faint but persistent, like a song I can’t quite hear. I’m Vivian Harper, the girl who’d rather disappear than stand out, and this feeling—this weird, buzzing energy—is not part of my usual routine. I shove it down, chalking it up to nerves. Third period’s looming, and I’m already bracing for the worst.The hallway’s a zoo, same as every Monday. Jocks high-five over some weekend touchdown, cheerleaders trade gossip by the lockers, and I weave through it all, hoodie pulled low. Maya Delgado, my best friend, calls me a “professional wallflower,” which stings less than it should. I like my quiet life—books, sketchpads, and avoiding drama. But this hum? It’s throwing me off, making my heart skitter like I’m running late, even though I’m not.I’m halfway to English when I nearly c