LOGINSloane.I walk down Fourth Street holding Zane's hand. The afternoon heat reflecting off the glass storefronts, buy tucked between a dry cleaner and a boutique sits an old fashioned bakery. It looks out of place, it's wooden sign painted in faded lettering.Zane tugs my wrist, pointing his shoe toward the display window."Mommy,""No,""You don't even know what I'm going to ask,""Yes, I do,""Cake.""Exactly."A low chuckle comes from behind the counter as I push the glass door open. The shop smells of yeast, cinnamon, tea and sugar.An elderly man stands behind the display case, wiping his hands on a white apron. He has dark hair streaked with grey, soft grey eyes and a gentle smile that reaches his eyes."For the young man who's the first customer of the day," The baker says, reaching into a glass jar and slides a small cinnamon across the counter toward Zane.I step foward, placing my hand in Zane's shoulder. "He doesn't need sugar."Zane looks up at me with wide eyes, looking com
Sloane.Friday morning arrives with bright, clear skies over Malibu.The location is a private cliffside villa overlooking the ocean. The midday sun beats down on the stone patio and infinity pool. Stylists applied bronze oil to my shoulders while I stand near the edge of the water wearing an olive green string bikini.Roan walks out of the changing cabana wearing dark navy swim trunks. He is ta, his bare chest broad and sculpted, the dark ink of his tattoos running down his left arm.'Well, he's smoking hot, isn't he?' Ivara purrs making me scoff.'Shut up.' I snapped.'Yeah yeah.' She sniggered."Alright!" The photographer yells, crounching near the water, adjusting his lens. "Let's get close! Lean into him, Eva!"Roan steps up behind me on the warm stone tiles. His large, warm palm settles around my bare waist.My skins flares instantly. My heart spikes, a rapid beat hitting my ribs.He leaned down, his breath brushing the side of my neck. "You okay?""Fine," I lied, keeping my eye
Sloane."Drive faster, Hector!"I press my hand against the leather interior of the door, my pulse beating fast. Hector steps on the accelerator, cutting through the LA traffic. Ten minutes later, the sedan pulls up to my building.I don't wait for Hector to open my door. I jump out, sprinting up the lobby stairs, and throw my front door open."Sarah!" I yelled, dropping my bag on the floorboards.I race down the hallway into Zane's bedroom. He lay flat on his back in bed, a damp cloth resting on his forehead. He turns his head slowly, his lower lip sticking out."Mommy!" He says, his voice small and pathetic. "I'm dying."I sit on the mattress beside him, placing my palm against his skin. His forehead is warm, but he isn't burning. It seems like a mild, ordinary fever."You're absolutely not dying," I say, letting out a long breath of relief.'He deserves to be punished.' Ivara growls in my head, making me roll my eyes.'He's a kid.''The adrenaline rush he caused was enough to kill
Sloane.I got back to my apartment building at eight thirty.The lobby is empty. I take the elevator up to the fourth floor, my keys out, ready to see Sarah and put Zane to bed.I reached my door and looked down.Something white sits on the floor mat. A plain envelope slid down the hallway under the door.There is no stamp. No name. No return address.My hands shook as I picked it up and unlocked the door, stepped inside the dark foyer, and locked the deadbolt behind me. Sarah is in the living room reading a book, and Zane's bedroom door is shut. He is already asleep.I walked to the kitchen counter and tore the edge of the envelope open.A small photograph drops onto the granite. I picked it up.My breath locked in my throat as I stared at the photograph. It was a photo of me when I was six years old. I was wearing a yellow summer dress, standing in the grass by the garden wall. My mother, Anya, stood right beside me with her hand on my shoulder. She's smiling at the camera, her hai
Sloane.The news hit the industry feeds at eight in the morning.'ROAN RHYS PARTNER'S WITH EVA WEST'S AGENCY''WHAT A SURPRISE LAUNCH.'Every phone on the fourth floor rang at the same time. Assistants rushed past the glass partitions with a stack of revised schedules, and Julian spent two hours on the phone with our European distributors, locking in the fall runaway slots.Roan's fifteen million dollars is in the escrow account. The contracts are signed and filed with the state board. For the first time since I left Blackridge, I have legal protection against a corporate takeover.I stood near the water cooler in the break room, holding a paper cup of hot chocolate. I should feel relieved, and also call Sarah, tell her to buy something nice for Zane.Instead, I watched the glass doors of the lobby.I knew how Raul operates. A man like him does not lose fifteen million dollars and walk away. He waits for an opening, and when he finds one, he takes everything.At noon, I head out to th
Sloane.An hour later, the studio is empty.I sit alone on the leather sofa in my private dressing room. The bright lights are turned off, leaving only the dim ambient glow from the street lamps outside the window.I stare down at my hands resting on my lap. They are completely steady.I raised my right hand, my finger brushing the side of my neck, tracing the small, faded scar where Raul bit me years ago.Deep inside my mind, my wolf whisperers.'One awakens us.'I closed my eyes, my breath catching in my throat as I tried to push her voice down.'The other calms the storm.'I didn't want to hear the rest. I pressed my palms over my ears, but her voice rang clear through my head anyway'Both belong to us.'_Roan drives me home after the photoshoot - well, after the mess I made.Streetlights cut through the dark cabin of his car as he steers onto the highway. He doesn't interrogate me..he doesn't ask why I collapsed or why an international investor was standing near me in a studio ha







