Novels by N.F. Coeur

Emory--Since I met Logan, he’s starred in my dreams pretty often. It’s even more common with the mind link now– we often even share dreams at night, both of us mentally practicing meetings Logan has set for the next day, or running as his wolf, or finding out that we’re late for one of my exams and also forgot to put on pants. It’s a little disorienting to wake up from a dream and already know Logan’s opinion about it, or to look over in the middle of one and see him in full detail next to me when everyone else is just an indistinct impression of themselves. That being said, we don’t often have sex dreams together. Usually, we go to bed sated or even sore and we manage to make it six to eight entire hours before we’re desperate for each other again.I’m in for a rare treat. I so seldom have sex dreams of Logan, and knowing he’s not home yet to see and critique anything means I’m feeli

Logan--Today was the earliest I was able to get wolves over to pick up the things Emory wanted to keep in her apartment. She assured me it was mostly keepsakes and favorite clothing that she left in her “don’t toss” pile, so imagine my surprise when I find a couple of the pack chuckling to themselves over a box at the front gate. Thinking they’re laughing at pictures of awkward preteen Emory, I steel myself not to laugh as well. I’ve seen a couple of the pictures and they’re not pretty, but they’re adorable in an ugly-duckling kind of way. She grew up to be a swan, so the pictures of her with braces and frizzy hair are almost unbearably endearing. I walk up behind them, unable to see what they’re holding while they’re huddled together like they are. “What’s the joke, gentlem

Emory--This might be the worst idea I’ve ever had. Somehow, I thought I’d just have like a training montage of exercise, then I’d throw a few punches at Hammer’s hands, and then we’d high five while the sweat dripped attractively down the sides of our faces, and I’d know how to fight. I even got myself cute workout clothes– a matching leggings and crop top set, and a hydro flask with not one drop of alcohol in it. I’m even wearing sneakers, for crying out loud. I pulled my hair up in a high pony and fully planned to look dewy and adorable when Logan got home tonight. It’s obvious in hindsight, but none of that is what’s happening. What’s happening is fucking laps. I’m running and choking and possibly dying while Hammer literally runs circles around me for “encouragement”.&nbs

Emory--When Hammer and I arrive back at the pack house, he leads me directly into the sitting room. He gestures at me to sit in my favorite seat– a rich burgundy wingback chair with vintage scrolling in the fabric that’s small enough to allow my feet to touch the floor– and paces in front of me as I settle in. Once I’m still, he pulls a taller chair across the room until it’s directly in front of mine and sits in it backwards. I don’t tell him that sitting like that makes him look like some mutated youth pastor, but I want to. He folds his arms on the back of the chair and studies me for a moment as I try not to fidget. “You know what I need to know. Talk.” I smile sheepishly, unsure where to begin o

Logan--“I haven’t read anything about humans becoming shifters in any of the records of fated mates here. Granted, we don’t have an abundance of records about fated mates, and even those have almost exclusively been between shifters only. We haven’t written much as a species about human-shifter matings because of the subliminal prejudice against humans we carry. We believe them to be lesser in our subconscious, and so why would we write about them? Really, I should do more research on that subject, as well– it’s simply fascinating how the cognitive dissonance of them greatly outnumbering us and being a danger to our existence as a whole contrasts with our instinctive contempt of them when faced with individual subjects. I wonder if…” I can feel my attention drifting as Arthur’s monologue continues down the rabbit trail he’s gained interest in.

Emory--Riding with Hammer and Silverson is more entertaining than I thought it would be. They’re spending the whole drive talking about security terms and strategies, as well as different classes that can be taken to get better at them. I had no idea Silverson had served in the military as well. I wonder what the percentages look like for humans vs shifters in the armed forces? Do they get together and watch each others’ backs? Or do they mostly ignore each other? I don’t want to interrupt their camaraderie to ask, so I hold onto my questions until the ride back. We arrive at the apartment building and Hammer takes a short second to give me side eye and a quick head shake. “No wonder Logan couldn’t leave you alone here. It’s a shithole.” I’m still figuring out how to articulate offense but also agr