LOGINSix years ago, Nick Blackwood broke my heart on Christmas morning when he believed a lie that destroyed us both.I disappeared, rebuilt my life, and raised his daughter alone, a secret I swore I’d never reveal.But when she gets sick and only her biological father can save her, I’m forced back into the world I left behind. Back to the charity galas and powerful Alphas. Back to the mate bond I’ve spent six years trying to forget.I wasn’t supposed to see him. He wasn’t supposed to know about her.But fate has other plans.The moment Nick realizes the little girl with his grey eyes is his daughter, everything changes. He doesn’t just want to save her, he wants another chance with me. And he’s not afraid to fight for it.The problem? I’ve spent six years building walls around my heart. I’ve become successful, independent, someone who doesn’t need saving.But the mate bond never died. And being near him again is making me remember why I fell in love with him in the first place.He knows the truth now and he’s been searching for me ever since. He promised he’ll spend the rest of his life making up for the mistake that cost him everything.Now we’re stuck together for the entire holiday season. Daily contact. Moments with Mia. His presence constant in our lives.Can a heart that’s been shattered ever truly heal? Or will this period bring us the second chance we’ve both been waiting for?Can I trust him with my heart again?
View MoreNICKThe basement smells the same. Concrete and old blood and whatever's left of a man who used to smell like cologne and control.Alex is still cuffed to the pipe. Weeks in this room have changed him. His face has healed from what I did to it but something else hasn't healed, something behind his eyes that's gone flat and patient in a way that used to only live in Edward's face."You're back," he says. "Did the cure work?""There is no cure."Something flickers across his face. Not disappointment. Curiosity."None of the doctors could reverse it," I say. "None of the healers. None of the compounds. You built something nobody else understands and you're the only person who knows how to undo it and you're never going to tell me.""Correct on all counts.""So I stopped looking for a cure."Alex tilts his head."She's remembering," I say. "Not because of medicine. Because of me. Because of stories and coffee and pancakes and every small thing I did for months before you put a needle in h
EMILYI don't sleep.I lie in the grey sheets with the smell of him still on my skin and the echo of his voice in my ears and I watch the streetlamp throw amber light across the ceiling until the light fades and the sun comes up and Mia's alarm goes off in the next room.I hear her feet hit the floor. I hear her open Mason's door and whisper something about pancakes. I hear Mason's low, serious reply, the words too quiet to make out but the tone unmistakably patient. He's always patient with her. He got that from Nick.Everything comes back to Nick.I drag myself out of bed and pull on jeans and a sweater and stand in the bathroom doorway staring at my reflection. My lips are swollen. My hair is a mess. There's a mark on my collarbone that I don't remember getting, a faint purple bruise the exact shape of his mouth. I touch it with my fingers and my stomach flips.Last night I had sex with a man I've known for three weeks. Last night my body recognized him in ways my mind can't explai
EMILY I don't remember how we got to the bedroom. One moment we were on the couch with my hand in his hair and the ice pack dripping onto the floor, and the next we were moving through the dark apartment, his mouth on my throat, my back hitting the wall beside the hallway, his good hand sliding under my shirt and his injured arm held carefully at his side because even now, even when he's kissing me like I'm the only source of oxygen in the room, he's protecting the shoulder he threw in front of a car for my daughter. "You need to tell me if I hurt you," I say against his mouth. "You're not going to hurt me." "Your shoulder—" "Is fine." "You have stitches." "I've had worse." He walks me backward through the bedroom door. "I don't care about the shoulder. I don't care about the stitches. I care about you, right now, in this room, telling me you want this." "I want this." "Then stop worrying about my shoulder." I pull his shirt over his head. The bandages wrap around
I stand in my kitchen. The pad thai containers from last night are still on the counter. The napkin with his handwriting. Extra lime. No peanuts. The way you like it.I pick up my phone.*Come upstairs. Bring the stories.*Three dots. Then:*Are you sure?**I’m sure. But just stories. Nothing else.**Okay.**And bring ice for your shoulder.**Okay.**And Nick?**Yeah?**If you try to kiss me I’m pushing you off my balcony.**Noted.*He knocks four minutes later. Two knocks. My hand is on the doorknob before the second knock finishes and I stopped pretending that bothers me somewhere between the punch and the pasta story.He’s holding an ice pack and two bottles of water and he’s changed into a t-shirt and his hair is messy and his left arm is still held against his body and he looks tired and hurt and careful and something else underneath all of it that I can see but won’t name. “Sit,” I say.He sits on the couch. I sit beside him. Not the opposite end. The middle. Close enough that
Nick and I stare at each other across the hallway. “We’ll use Alexander’s bond,” I say before Nick can speak. Dr. Harrison’s expression shifts to concern. “Ms. Winters, I need to be very clear about the risks—” “I understand the risks. Alexander will bond with her.” “Emily—” Nick starts.
My whole body tenses. “Stay away from her.” “How old is she?” I don’t answer. “How old, Emily?” “Six.” I watch him do the math. Six years. Six years since that Christmas morning. Six years since he destroyed me, and I left with his child growing inside me. His face goes pale. His hand
The doctor's offices smells like antiseptic and false hope. I'm sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, holding Mia's hand while Dr. Chen reviews her test results. Again. Like looking at them one more time will change what they say. Mia is six years old. She has my dark curls an
I wake up to sunlight burning through my eyelids. My head is pounding like someone’s taking a hammer to the inside of my skull, and my mouth tastes like something crawled inside and died. My body feels heavy and wrong, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. When I force my eyes open, everythin






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