Novels by Chelsi McPherson

He was there. Across the crowded living room, leaning against the wall near the stairs, Roger stood perfectly still while chaos swirled around him. He wasn't dancing, wasn't talking to anyone, wasn't even holding a drink. He was just... watching. Watching me. Our eyes met, and the world seemed to tilt sideways. He looked different than he had in the coffee shop—or maybe I was just seeing him more clearly now. Dark jeans and a black henley that fit him perfectly, his hair slightly tousled like he'd run his hands through it. But it was his eyes that held me frozen. Even from across the room, even in the dim, flashing lights, I could see the intensity in them. Like he'd been waiting for me to notice him. Like he'd known exactly where I'd be. My heart started racing, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn't a coincidence. It couldn't be. The coffee shop this morning, and now here, at this specific party? What were the odds? But even as my rational mind screamed that

**THE PARTY** The bass hit us before we even got out of the car—a deep, pulsing rhythm that I could feel in my chest. The house was already packed, people spilling out onto the front lawn with red solo cups in hand, laughing and shouting over the music. "This is going to be epic," Erin said, practically bouncing in her seat as she found a parking spot three houses down. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Through the windows, I could see bodies moving, lights flashing in different colors. It looked like chaos. It looked like my worst nightmare. "Come on." Erin was already out of the car, waiting for me. The October air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and that particular smell of autumn—woodsmoke and earth and something indefinable that always made me feel nostalgic for things I couldn't quite remember. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself as we walked up the driveway. Inside was even more overwhelming than I'd imagined. The music was so loud

**GETTING READY** "Absolutely not." I held up the scrap of black fabric Erin was trying to pass off as a dress. "There's no way I'm wearing this." "Oh, come on!" Erin flopped dramatically onto my bed, sending throw pillows tumbling to the floor. "You promised you'd let me pick your outfit. You *promised*, Ava." "I promised I'd go to the party. I didn't promise to go dressed like I'm auditioning for a music video." She sat up, fixing me with that look—the one that meant she was about to launch into a full lecture. "When was the last time you actually went out and had fun? And I mean real fun, not sitting in a coffee shop reading depressing poetry or whatever it is you do." "I have fun," I protested weakly, but we both knew it was a lie. Erin had been my best friend since freshman year, when she'd found me eating lunch alone in the library and decided I needed saving. She was everything I wasn't—outgoing, confident, completely comfortable in her own skin. Where I overthought

The moment she realizes I'm here, I feel it—a jolt of recognition, of desire. I can read her mind, hear her thoughts as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud. It's one of my abilities, one I've tried not to use on her. But right now, with her so close, I can't help it. *What the hell is wrong with me? I have never wanted to do that to a guy I've never met before.* Oh man. I shouldn't be reading her mind right now. My body reacts instantly to her thoughts, heat flooding through me as I hear what she's mentally thinking. Fuck, I really want her so bad. The intensity of it catches me off guard—I've wanted her for so long, but feeling her want me back, even if she doesn't understand why, is almost too much. I have to get control of myself. The things I want to do with her, the way I want to claim her as mine—it would be too much, too fast. But she's different. She always has been. She's the only one who ever made me feel human. You can feel the sexual tension in the air between us

At first, they were vague—flashes of a coffee shop, a small town, the feeling of being close to something important. But they grew stronger, more specific. I'd see Ava's face, older now but unmistakably her. I'd see the street signs, the buildings, the mountains in the background. The dreams came every night, pulling me like a compass pointing north, until I couldn't ignore them anymore. "It's the bond," Marcus said when I told him. "It's calling you to her. But Roger, you have to understand—if you go to her, if you reveal yourself, you'll put her in danger. The hunters have long memories. They're still looking for the two of you." "I don't care," I said. "I've spent ten years without her. I can't do it anymore." "You might not have a choice. The Council has rules about this for a reason. Contact between bonded pairs who were separated for protection—it's forbidden. If you break that rule, there will be consequences. For both of you." But I was already packing. Already plannin

ROGER The other kids at school noticed we were different too, though they couldn't have said exactly how. We were faster in gym class, stronger than we should be. Once, in fourth grade, Tommy Henderson tried to bully Ava, pushing her down on the playground. I'd been on the other side of the school, but I felt her fear and anger like it was my own. I was there in seconds, moving faster than I'd ever moved before, and when I grabbed Tommy's arm to pull him away, he yelped in pain. "Freak!" he'd shouted, cradling his arm. "You're both freaks!" The teacher on duty had separated us, but she'd looked at me strangely, like she was seeing something she didn't want to acknowledge. After that, the other kids gave us a wide berth. We didn't mind. We had each other, and that was all that mattered. Our parents noticed too. I'd catch my mom watching me with this mixture of pride and sadness, like she was mourning something that hadn't happened yet. Ava's parents were the same. Sometimes, w

The warning howl tore through the trees just after sunset.Not a training call. Not a patrol signal.Alarm.Lena felt it before she understood it — her body snapping alert, heart slamming hard enough to hurt. Conversations in the pack house died mid-word. Chairs scraped. Boots pounded against wood floors.Kael was already moving.“Inside. Now,” he ordered, voice carrying command that brooked no argument.“I’m not hiding,” Lena shot back, adrenaline buzzing through her veins like live wire.His eyes flashed — not anger. Fear. “You’re not ready.”A second howl cut through the air, closer this time. Answered by another.Ronan came down the stairs fast. “North ridge. At least five.”Kael swore under his breath. “They’re testing us.”“They’re hunting,” Ronan corrected grimly.Lena stepped forward. “Tell me what to do.”Both men turned to her.“Stay with me,” Kael said immediately.“Stay where you can see everything,” Ronan said at the same time.They glared at each other.Lena threw her ha

Morning came with motion.Voices outside. Footsteps. The distant thud of something heavy hitting the ground over and over.Lena stepped onto the back training field, the cool air biting her lungs in a way that felt sharp and clean. A wide clearing stretched behind the pack house, the earth worn smooth by years of combat drills.Kael stood in the center, sleeves pushed up, demonstrating a movement to two younger wolves. Controlled. Precise. Power held on a leash.Her stomach did a small, traitorous flip.He noticed her instantly.Always.“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked as she approached.“Your pack does sunrise fight club,” she said. “Hard to miss.”A corner of his mouth lifted. He dismissed the others with a nod, and they scattered — though not without curious glances at her.“You should start learning,” he said. “Control helps the noise quiet down.”“The noise being my entire nervous system?” she asked.“Exactly.”He moved closer, slower than necessary. “I’ll guide you. You won’t shift fu

The pack house was quieter that evening.Most of the wolves were out on patrol, leaving the large common room bathed in low firelight and the golden glow of sunset through the tall windows. Lena sat cross-legged on the wide rug near the hearth, a mug of something herbal and unfamiliar warming her hands.She could hear Kael moving in the kitchen behind her — steady, unhurried sounds. A knife against a cutting board. A cabinet closing. The domestic normalcy of it clashed so hard with alpha werewolf that it almost made her smile.“You cook?” she called.“I can,” he replied. “Leadership doesn’t exempt me from basic survival.”She glanced over her shoulder. “You say that like you’ve had to prove it.”A pause. Then, “Alphas who think they’re above their pack don’t stay alphas long.”There was history in that sentence. Heavy, old history.He brought over a bowl and sat across from her instead of beside her — leaving space. Always giving her space.She noticed.“What happens now?” she asked q

The forest felt different in daylight.Lena stepped out onto the wide wooden porch, sunlight warming her face, pine and earth filling her lungs so sharply it almost tasted sweet. Every sound seemed layered now — birds in distant trees, wind combing through branches, footsteps inside the house behind her.She wasn’t alone for two seconds.“You’re not supposed to wander off yet.”The voice came from her right — smooth, edged with amusement.She turned.If Kael felt like steady heat, this man felt like lightning waiting to strike.He leaned against one of the porch posts, arms crossed, dark hair pulled back loosely at his neck. His eyes were lighter than Kael’s — amber with flecks of green — and far less guarded.“Let me guess,” she said. “Also a werewolf. Also weirdly intense.”His grin was quick and sharp. “Ronan. Second-in-command. And I prefer ‘charmingly intense.’”She huffed a small laugh before she could stop herself. “Lena. Newly traumatized.”“Yeah,” he said, gaze flicking over

Lena woke slowly, like she was swimming up through heavy water.Warmth surrounded her. Not the sticky, suffocating kind — a steady, even heat that made her muscles loosen one by one as awareness crept back in.The first thing she noticed was the quiet.No traffic. No humming fridge. No neighbors arguing through thin apartment walls.Just wind through trees… and a faint crackling sound.Fire.Her eyes opened.Wooden beams crossed the ceiling above her. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, landing in golden stripes across a wide room built from stone and logs. A fire burned low in a massive hearth across from where she lay on a couch covered in thick blankets.For a moment, she just stared.Then memory crashed in.Red moon. Wolves. Teeth. Eyes.The man.She bolted upright.Pain didn’t stab — it bloomed. A deep, full-body soreness like she’d run a marathon she didn’t remember starting. Her senses felt… loud. The fire snapped too sharply. The air carried layers of scent she couldn’t na

Lena had always hated full moons.Not in a dramatic, horror-movie way. Nothing that obvious. It was quieter than that. A restless hum under her skin. Nights where sleep never came easy and every sound outside her window felt personal, like the dark was aware of her.Tonight, the moon wasn’t silver.It was red.She stood barefoot on the back porch of her rental house at the edge of town, arms folded tight against the chill. The woods behind her stretched deep and black, the treetops glowing faintly under the strange crimson light.“This is fine,” she muttered. “Totally normal. Just… spooky sky nonsense.”But her heart wouldn’t slow down.Wind moved through the trees in long sighs. Leaves scraped. Branches clicked.Then everything went still.No crickets. No distant highway hum.Nothing.A chill traced slowly down her spine.And then—A howl split the night.Low. Layered. Close.Lena froze, fingers digging into her arms. “Okay. That’s a wolf. That’s definitely a wolf. Why is there a wol