Novels by Saint

"Yes.""You shouldn't be.""Probably not." I kept my voice flat. "I need to understand the terms."He closed the door and stayed near it. He didn't come toward me — he kept distance I hadn't asked for but apparently needed. He was paying attention to what I needed without being told.That made him more dangerous, not less."Terms," he repeated."You claimed me in a slave square in front of an entire pack," I said. "Which means everyone in a fifty-mile radius now knows I belong to the Lycan King. Which means I cannot go back. Which means my son and I are here until you decide otherwise." I held his gaze. "So I need to know what 'otherwise' looks like. What do you want from me? What happens to my son? What is expected of us here?"The King moved to the chair near the fire and sat down. Not across the room. Not looming. Just near."I want nothing from you," he said. "Not while you are healing.""That's not an answer.""It is the only honest one I have at the moment." His golden eyes held

LioraI woke up in a bed.That sounds like the smallest, most unremarkable thing. But after three years of a husband who monitored my pillow count and two weeks on a clinic cot with straps on my wrists, the weight of a real mattress beneath me — thick and warm and clean — felt so foreign it triggered a spike of pure, animal panic before my brain caught up to my body.‘You are not in the clinic. You are not in the packhouse.’ I went perfectly still and took stock.Stone ceiling, arched and ancient, twice the height of any room I'd ever slept in. A fireplace the size of a small doorway burned amber and gold in the far wall. The room smelled of old cedar and mountain cold.My abdomen screamed when I tried to sit up. I bit down on my lip and pushed through it, getting one elbow under me, then the other, until I was upright against the carved headboard, panting.Then I looked right.He was there.My son was tucked in a cradle beside my bed — a proper cradle, dark polished wood with carved

KaelenThe jagged tracks of the carriage wheels were permanently gouged into the mud.I stood at the edge of the pack square, staring down at the deep ruts left behind by those demonic horses. The freezing wind bit at my face, but I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel my fingers. All I could feel was the massive, hollow cavity in the center of my chest.‘Mate’ .The word echoed in my skull, mocking me in the deep, rumbling timber of the Lycan King’s voice.It was impossible. A sick, twisted joke. Slaves did not ride inside the King’s carriage. They were chained to the back of the meat wagons. They were dragged and treated like the trash they were. But the King… he had dropped to his knees. In the mud. For Liora!! He had wrapped her in his own royal furs and lifted her up against his chest like she was the most precious thing in the world.How??!My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ground together. A sharp, violent spasm of pain ripped through my ribcage, making me stumble half a step forwa

‘Mine.’The single word slammed into my chest like a physical blow.When Kaelen rejected me, just moments ago, the severing of our bond felt like a rusted blade dragging through my soul, leaving me hollowed out and dying. Typical werewolf reprisal to a severed bond. But this? This was a supernova.A rush of pure, liquid heat exploded from the base of my spine, racing through my veins and melting the ice in my blood. The excruciating pain in my ripped abdomen dulled for a fraction of a second, completely swallowed by the intoxicating, heavy scent. Dark chocolate. Crushed cedar. And the sharp, electric tang of a looming thunderstorm. I could feel it so deep in my bones.My wolf screamed in recognition. She slammed against my ribs so hard I nearly doubled over.I slapped her back down."I…" The words scraped up through my raw, bleeding throat. I forced them out anyway. "I am not anyone's anything. I belong to no one!" I slapped his hand away, almost immediately regretting it.The King’s

My knees gave out on the second step.The guards didn't care. They didn't stop dragging me.My bare feet slapped against the freezing stone of the grand staircase, my toes leaving small, pathetic smears of blood where I dragged. The rough fabric of the hospital gown rode up my thighs, exposing the fresh, agonizing black stitches binding my sliced abdomen together. Every jolt was a white-hot knife to my gut. The pain was just too much for me. If only my wolf was alive and active, I wouldn’t have had to hurt this much. "Please," I sobbed, my voice a broken rasp. I twisted my torso, curling my shoulders inward to shield the tiny, shivering bundle clutched to my chest. My son was crying —a high, thin, reedy shriek that tore my heart completely in two. "My stitches. Please, you're tearing them."Thorne, Kaelen’s Beta, walked ahead of us. He didn't even look back. "Keep her moving," he ordered the guards. "The Alpha wants her on the block before the sun sets."They dragged me out the door

LioraEight months pregnant!I chuckled, tracing the tight, swollen curve of my belly. I raised my chin and looked at myself in the rearview mirror, a massive smile spreading across my cheeks. I was finally giving an heir to my mate. I was finally going to be a true Luna for the Alpha. Kaelen was finally going to love and cherish me!"Luna Liora, we have arrived," the pack driver announced calmly as the car rolled to a halt in front of the mansion.I exited the vehicle, practically buzzing with excitement as I made my way to the packhouse steps. After years of miscarriages, endless bruising injections, and agonizing fertility treatments, I finally got to break the news: our pup was strong, and ready to be birthed in just a few weeks.I soon made it into the foyer. But something seemed off. Where was everyone? The maids? The guards? Beta Thorne? Where was my mate? Why was the packhouse eerily empty? After being quarantined in the pack’s clinic for over two weeks, shouldn't someone be