Chapter 1

One year ago…

I shouldn’t be here…

My eyes narrowed on his tattooed knuckles as his grip tightened over the motorbike handlebars. And not just any motorbike.

It was a freaking Ducati Panigale V4 R. I didn’t know what made my body burn hotter. The beauty of the metal gleaming beneath the lights or the beast of a man sitting on it.

Holy shit.

I was standing inches from Darius Monroe–aka the Savage–in the blazing hot, over six-foot tall, golden, muscular flesh!

I didn’t know if it was nerves or me missing lunch and dinner, but my skin tingled, and my heart was doing unusual movements inside my chest.

Or maybe it was the insane need to touch him. For my hands to slide over those firm shoulders and–

Heat sprouted across my cheeks at that mere thought as an elbow buried in my ribcage. “This is a terrible idea, Elise.”

I tore my gaze from Darius for a brief second to meet Loren’s. “Very,” I bit my lip and turned to resume my drooling fest. He was in the middle of a sea of leather-clad, badass men–but your best bet not one of them came close to his level of awesome.

A thunderous clap sounded, and the crowd broke out in cheers. Loren grabbed my forearm, her long, coffin-style fingernails digging into my skin. “We shouldn’t be here!”

“Relax. No one will notice us.” I flicked a long strand of chestnut hair from my face and dragged her hand away. “Chill. The only threat here right now is you mauling me to death with those claws of yours.”

“We’re…” She lowered her voice. “We’re seventeen. That means underage. You know that, right? Besides the fact that this is illegal.”

“Loren, no one cares. We’re practically invisible.” I kept my gaze locked on Darius as I continued. “They’re about to start. Look.”

Loren propped her hands on her hips and ranted on, but her voice was drowned out by the rumble of motorbike engines turning on. The sound sent a prickle of excitement across my skin, and I stood on the tip of my toes to get a better look. Though, I didn’t need to, as we managed to snag a spot in the front row. But I didn’t want to miss the takeoff. It wasn’t every day I got to see the Savage himself at one of these races.

I tilted my head skyward, spotting rows upon rows of werewolves lining the rooftops of the buildings–the onyx sky dappled with the brilliant glow of their eyes. It was a kaleidoscope of color as they peered around, leaving warped, mystical shapes in their wake.

My attention snagged toward a woman standing a few people to our left, raising her candy-red blouse and flashed her chest toward the bikers. Her shrill voice carried over the crowd despite the noise as she shouted, “Savage! Hey Savage! Look here, baby!”

A giggle spilled from my lips as Loren grabbed me by the arm again and snapped into my ear, “Your dad’s going to kill you.”

“Like he’s going to find out,” I huffed, poking her in the ribs playfully. “Hey, Lor, relax. This is supposed to be fun.”

“It’s hard to have fun when you know there are serious consequences–”

Loren got cut off as the announcer started listing the rules of the race. The bikers made a neat line before the announcer, revving their bikes in anticipation. Most of them blew kisses and waved at the crowds, except for the Savage. He seemed to be in it to win it and didn’t glance at the masses once.

Which was one of the many reasons I liked him. He knew what he wanted and didn’t allow his attention to stray.

“Your dad is going to have an aneurysm.” I heard Loren carry on beside me.

That mere thought alone made this all the more exciting, knowing my dad would pop a vein–or a few–if he knew what I was doing.

It wasn’t the fact that we were underage. Or that this event was illegal. Or that some suspiciously shady dealings were happening right around us.

We were on enemy territory. It made it all the worse that I was the alpha’s daughter of the most rivaled pack out there.

Everyone would question my dad’s leadership skills if his only child got caught amid a rival pack’s stomping grounds.

He would have a full-on stroke if he found out I was here to cheer on the future alpha of said rival pack–the Bloodmoon Brotherhood–and drooling all over him while I was at it.

But I wouldn’t get caught out. Because I sure as daylight would not get caught out.

Besides, I wasn’t all out defenseless and alone. My eyes skimmed the crowd on the opposite side of the street. They landed on a round man clad in a gray suit. He had a cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth, the smoke coiling around his large sunglasses.

It was close to midnight. This man would be scavenging the planet’s darkest cave and still wear a pair of freaking Gucci sunglasses. Though those were custom, the frame had a leopard pattern in yellow and black diamonds. Those glasses alone cost more than your middle-class house.

That man was Dad’s wingman—aka beta—Fat Tony. I had no idea what he was doing here, but the more I searched the crowds, the more faces I spotted from the Black Syndicate.

And, as if feeling my gaze on him, Fat Tony turned his head my way and nodded curtly.

Okay, so when I said I wouldn’t get caught out, I was referring to the opposing packs, not my own. I had no doubt Fat Tony would rat me to my dad.

As I shot him a cheesy grin, something fluffy smacked me against my cheek. I turned to see a ball of hot pink fluff land by my feet, then quickly peered around to see where it came from. No one was paying attention, so I shrugged and darted to pick up the pompom.

I straightened in time as a shot rang out, and the wolves above us went ballistic. A cry of excitement exploded from my lips as the bikers took off. I shot a final, lustful look at the Ducati beneath the Savage and released a sigh. “It was good knowing you.”

In a minute, that gorgeous bike would be smashed to smithereens. The thing with werewolf motorbike races–it started with a motorbike and ended in wolf form. The rule was that halfway through the race, the bikers would shift into their wolf and do the final round of the race. Extra points for those who ruin their bikes in the process.

It sounded messed up, but to witness those giant beasts as they shifted and smashed the living daylights out of a metal machine their size was a thrill beyond comparison.

It took a minute for them to round the track and make it to our side again. The moment they hit the target line for the second round, they lifted their bikes and began to shift. I paid little attention to the other bikers. I only had eyes for the Savage.

His hands released the handlebars as the bike shot upward, and he transformed into a giant, silver wolf. I lifted my arm, waving the pompom and bouncing to cheer with the crowd.

This was my favorite part.

This was what I was here for.

The moment my scream of encouragement blended with the crowds’, and as if caught in slow motion–the giant silver wolf’s head twisted in my direction, and his large, mint-blue eyes fell on me.

A ripple of electricity shot through my body and the hand holding the pompom dropped to my side. The world moved beneath my feet.

Something was happening at that moment as The Savage’s eyes were on me. Our gazes locked.

My wolf stirred and perked her ears. It’s him.

A second later, he crashed snout-first into the asphalt–his Ducati landing beside his form in an ear-splitting crash. Everything went quiet around us except for the soft pounding of the other wolves’ paws as they continued the race.

“Well, shit. That’s a first,” a man beside me muttered. A bell chimed, and the announcer declared a fallen wolf.

The Savage–of all wolves.

I was barely processing that fact, trying to understand what my wolf was trying to tell me. She was excited about something. Practically howling in my ears.

The crowd parted around me as a very naked man–The Savage himself–got up from the street and stalked straight toward me.

My body immediately heated up, and my heart went haywire. As he paused inches from me with a deep scowl set on his bloody face, it was then that I understood what my wolf was trying to tell me.

The Savage was my chosen mate.

Oh. My… A wild excitement pulsed through me, and I managed a slight, shaky smile. I had dreamed about what my mate would look like. Never in my wildest dreams had I—

His hand shot out, and his fingers locked around my throat as he dragged me flush against his naked body until our noses touched. “I fucking lost because of you.”