Craving The Wrong Scent

ValerieI felt Sebastian’s heartbeat thundering against my palm as he buried his face in my neck, his body shaking with silent sobs. Even after ten years of this cycle, my wolf whined at his distress, desperate to comfort our mate.Our mate who doesn’t want us, I reminded her firmly.“She’s really done it this time,” he choked out. “She’s really leaving me, Val.”I stroked his hair, the silky strands sliding through my fingers the way they had a thousand times before. “Shh, it’s okay. You’ve broken up before. Fifth time this year, remember? You'll always find your way back.”It was only July. Five breakups in seven months should have been a sign that something was fundamentally wrong, but Sebastian didn’t want logic when it came to Chelsea. He wanted comfort. He wanted me to be his safe place while he fell apart over someone else.And like the fool I was, I gave him exactly what he wanted. Every. Single. Time.Sebastian pulled back, his amber eyes red-rimmed and devastated. God

ValerieThe knock on my door came exactly when I knew it would. I'd been going back and forth with Sebastian over his plan to crash Chelsea’s wedding. When he wouldn't listen, I’d actually practiced ignoring him over the past three weeks, letting his calls go to voicemail, responding to his texts with single words or not at all. It was pathetic how much effort it took to create even that small distance between us, because of how every ignored message felt like denying myself oxygen.But the knocking at my door persisted, and I knew Sebastian well enough to know he’d just keep at it until I gave in. Finally, I opened the door.Sebastian looked like hell. His hair was disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed and wild, his usual careful composure completely shattered. He pushed past me into my apartment without waiting for an invitation, pacing my small living room like a caged animal.“I’m going to do it,” he announced, spinning to face me with manic energy radiating off him in waves. “I’m

Mi Amor Mia The Grand Lumière Hotel in Asheville, North Carolina had become something of a second home over the past three days. I’d checked in after attending the remembrance ceremony for my adoptive parents, Theodore and Meredith Foster. Five years since they’d fallen in battle, and the pain hadn’t dulled. If anything, it had sharpened into something cold and permanent that lived in my chest. I was barely eight years old when my birth parents shipped me off like defective merchandise to live with my aunt and her family in Ironwood Pack. My uncle-in-law, who was a strong warrior, had seen potential instead of problems like my birth parents had. “We’ll teach you how to win,” he’d told me on my first day in Ironwood territory. And he had. For fifteen years, he and his wife had given me everything my birth parents never could. They’d trained me, turning my wild, untamed energy into something deadly and precise. And I grew into a warrior, a leader, and someone who commanded respe

Valerie I woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains, my head pounding with the kind of hangover that suggested I’d done something monumentally stupid. For a moment, I just lay there, trying to piece together the fragments of last night. A quiet laugh escaped my lips as I buried my face in the pillow. “Finally,” I murmured to myself. After years of watching him stubbornly remain distant, he'd finally warm up to me, and all he took was a public humiliation and rejection from Chelsea. I stretched, feeling the pleasant ache in muscles I hadn’t used in… well, ever. My fingers clutched the edge of the duvet as the memory of his intensity flashed through my mind again. My heart fluttered wildly. I shifted under the covers and slowly lifted the edge of the duvet. I looked down and found myself in only my underwear, the rest of me deliciously naked beneath the duvet. “Oh my gosh…” Heat flooded my cheeks and a shy smile spread across my face as I pulled the duvet over my

Valerie My dignity lasted approximately as long as it took to reach the hotel lobby. “Excuse me, Miss!” The receptionist called out, hurrying around her desk. I stopped reluctantly. “Yes?” Her professional smile dint waver as she gestured politely toward me. “I'm sorry, but you can’t leave the hotel wearing our robe.” I blinked, and looked down. Only then did I realize I was still wearing the plush Grand Lumière bathrobe. “I…” I swallowed, tightening my grip on my dress and shoes clutched in my arms like I was fleeing a crime scene. “I need to change,” I managed, my voice hollow. “Of course,”she said kindly. “If you'd like, we can show you to a guest room where you can change.” I nodded stiffly “Fine.” A staff member led me down a short hallway and opened the door to a small room. “You can change here, maam” “Thank you.” The door closed behind me. The moment I was alone, I leaned both hands on the dresser and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess