LOGINKira Voss was born the only wolfless pup in werewolf history — an Alpha's daughter with no wolf at all. No shift. No claws. No place among a species that measures worth in fangs and fur. For nineteen years she has been an embarrassment her own pack barely tolerates, invisible beside the sister being groomed to inherit everything she can't. Then, at the Unity Ceremony meant to seal peace between the four Northern packs, she meets her fated mate and the entire gathering feels the bond snap into place between her and Damien Cross, the most powerful Alpha in the territory. He rejects her on the spot. In front of both packs. Because a Luna with no wolf is a weakness he cannot afford; not with an ancient enemy stirring at the borders, and not with his mother maneuvering him toward a more suitable match. Humiliated by a rejection that should have killed the bond and didn't, Kira disappears into the wild and is taken in by a rogue pack that answers to no Alpha, led by a man who looks at her like she's something worth being afraid of. Three years later, Kira Voss returns. She still can't shift into a wolf. She shifts into something older. Something the packs were told died out centuries ago and something the ancient enemy massing at Blackthorn's borders will burn the world down to possess. Damien Cross rejected the weakest woman he ever met. Now he has to survive what she's become, and beg the woman he threw away to save the only home he has left.
View MoreI felt him before Lucian even called his name.It hit somewhere under my sternum, sharp enough that I stopped halfway through pulling my boots on, one hand braced against the cabin wall while the entire lower half of my body forgot, briefly, how to hold weight. Three weeks of quiet mornings and dawn training had made me forget how much that particular feeling could level me. I hadn't forgotten. I'd just stopped expecting to feel it again.I was moving before I'd decided to move, the same way I'd been running through a forest three weeks ago before I'd decided to run, and some small, furious part of me hated that my body still answered to him at all, hated that three weeks of learning to stand on my own hadn't undone whatever this bond had wired into me at a level deeper than choice.I came out of the treeline already knowing what I'd see, and it didn't make seeing it any easier.Damien Cross, standing at the edge of Wilder territory in a shirt that had clearly never been worn somewher
Three weeks after the ceremony, the ache under my ribs had stopped behaving like something that would eventually fade and started behaving like something with an opinion about how I ran my life.It picked meetings to flare in. It picked the worst possible moments to remind me it existed; halfway through a trade negotiation with Draven's Beta, in the middle of reviewing security reports, once, humiliatingly, during a condolence call to a family who'd lost someone on the east ridge. I'd learned to breathe through it without my face showing anything, the same discipline that had gotten me through my father's funeral at seventeen without letting three hundred wolves watch me fall apart. It was a discipline built for grief, not for this. I was starting to suspect that was exactly the problem. That whatever this was, my body had decided to file it under the same category as loss, and wasn't interested in my objections.“You look terrible,” Marcus said, with the particular bluntness only a B
Two weeks into living among the Wilders, I still hadn't shifted. I had, however, started noticing the moonlight following me often enough that I'd stopped pretending to myself it was a coincidence.“Again,” Lucian said, for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, standing across a small clearing he'd started bringing me to at dawn, before the rest of the camp was awake to watch whatever this was turning into. “Same as before. Don't try to shift. Just reach for whatever you felt at the fire that first night.”“I don't know what I felt.”“Then stop trying to name it and just reach.”It had become something like a routine over the past two weeks; dawn training that wasn't really training so much as two people standing in a clearing while I failed to do something neither of us could properly describe. I'd asked him once why he bothered showing up every morning instead of leaving it to Leo, who at least had some idea what he was looking for. “Leo's better with the old stories,” he'
Isabel Sterling arrived a week later, exactly on schedule, exactly as composed as her reputation promised, and I spent the better part of an hour trying to determine whether she wanted this alliance any more than I did.“Your mother's very thorough,” she said, taking in my study with the polite, cataloguing look of someone raised the same way I had been. “She's already spoken to my father twice this week.”“She does that.”“I'll say this plainly, Alpha Cross, since I doubt either of us has patience for pretending otherwise. I don't particularly want to marry a man who's still recovering from rejecting his fated mate in front of three packs. No offense intended.”“None taken. I don't particularly want to marry anyone recovering from anything, myself included.”Something in her expression eased, fractionally; not warmth exactly, but the relief of finding out the person across from you isn't going to make you perform a feeling neither of you had. “Then we agree on something. My father wa












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