LOGINAyla Dyer has always felt different. Abandoned as a child and starved of real belonging, she has learned to survive on scraps of love, clinging to a toxic boyfriend because even pain feels safer than being alone. But when her reckless best friend starts digging into rumours of brutal attacks and men who seem just a little too inhuman, Ayla is dragged toward a secret world hidden beneath the modern city. Lucas Blackthorn is the last man she should want. Dark, dominant, and fiercely loyal to his pack, he belongs to a brutal species that has lived beside humanity for centuries, concealed behind blood, instinct, and violence. He should not be drawn to Ayla. Yet from the moment he meets her, nothing about her makes sense. Her scent is wrong. Her presence is intoxicating. And the deeper he is pulled toward her, the more dangerous she becomes. As enemies close in and a savage rival pack rises from the shadows, Ayla finds herself hunted by forces she does not understand. Because she is not just an ordinary girl caught between monsters. She may be the key to an ancient bloodline, a buried war, and a destiny powerful enough to reshape their world. Thrown into a dark world of obsession, betrayal, captivity, and predatory desire, Ayla and Lucas must decide whether to fight the pull between them or surrender to it. But in a world ruled by instinct and blood, love is never gentle, and being claimed by the wrong man could cost Ayla everything. Content warning: This novel contains material that some readers may find distressing, including sexually explicit scenes, detailed graphic violence, bloodshed, captivity, coercive sexual threat, drug use, and emotionally abusive relationships.
View MoreThe chamber had once belonged to kings.That was plain even in ruin.Its ceiling rose in blackened vaults above them, the stone soot-stained and cracked where fire had licked upward in the last violence of the war. The carved pillars that ringed the room had been hacked at in places, gouged and bloodied, as though the wolves who had stormed it had wanted not merely to kill what lived there, but to humble the house itself. Ash still lay in the joins between the flagstones. Melted bronze had hardened in ugly trails down one wall. The air smelled faintly of old smoke, wet stone, and the dark metallic ghost of blood too ancient now to belong to any living body.They had gathered in the half-light beneath a single iron brazier.There were only six of them.Once, they would not have been made to wait in any hall. Once, they had stood at the edges of the high seat, had poured wine and counsel into the ears of princes, had watched lesser blood bend itself into obedience beneath the weight of
AylaI lay there on my back, chest still rising and falling in heavy waves, every muscle loose and trembling from the force of the orgasm he had torn out of me. The echo of it still moved through my body in slow, liquid ripples, making my inner walls flutter and clench around nothing. My thighs were slick, my skin flushed hot and damp, and between my legs I felt swollen and sensitive and impossibly empty now that his mouth had left me. Each tiny aftershock sent a fresh spark of pleasure racing up my spine, pulling soft, helpless sounds from my throat that I couldn’t hold back.Lucas stayed exactly where he was, kneeling between my spread thighs, his shoulders still supporting the weight of my legs. His mouth rested against me, pressing the gentlest kisses to my swollen labia, to the oversensitive bud at the top that twitched every time his breath ghosted over it. He was tasting me slowly, lazily, as if he could not bear to stop drinking the evidence of what he had done to me. The wet,
LucasBy the time we slipped away from the heat and laughter of the yard, no one much cared where we were going, only that we were going together. The pack was loud behind us now, properly loud, the sharpness of danger dissolved at last into something warmer, looser, almost drunken in its relief. Laughter rolled after us first, then the smell of smoke and meat and homemade liquor, then the last ragged scraps of chanting, already breaking apart into teasing calls and crude blessings flung after our backs. It all followed us for a while as we crossed the darker stretch beyond the main yard, then began, little by little, to thin behind us until it became only the distant living pulse of Blackthorn carrying on without us. The night felt cooler away from the fires. Or perhaps I only noticed the cold more now that the heat of the crowd had gone. Every step still pulled somewhere. My side first, a deep mean ache under the healing stitches. Then the shoulder, still not right, still quick to c
Selene It was the right sentence.That was the first thing I knew with any real certainty after the gate slammed and Finn disappeared from view. The yard still held the scent of him for a few seconds, as though the pack had not yet quite finished turning its back, but the sentence itself had been right. Hard, clean, and cruel in precisely the way a true Alpha’s judgement ought to be. Death would have been simpler. More immediate. More satisfying to the uglier hungers in the yard. A knife across the throat. Teeth. Blood on concrete. A body cooling under the same sky that had watched him lie and steal and betray. But Lucas had chosen something colder than that. Something that would go on and on long after the satisfaction of violence had burnt itself out.Packlessness.Namelessness.To be cut loose from Blackthorn and thrown into the world with no claim left on anything that had once made him somebody. No home. No yard. No brothers at his back. No name to steady his spine when the nigh
AylaBy the time the city had swallowed the last direct sound of Blackthorn behind us, my whole body felt like one long shudder that had forgotten how to stop. We had run hard enough that thought itself had begun to thin into instinct. Turn here. Keep low. Do not slip. Stay with him. Breathe if you
Selene By the time Lucas left, I was too drunk to cry and far too angry to let that stop me wanting to.That was the humiliation of it. Not merely that he had turned cold on me, though he had. Not merely that he had looked through me with all that damned control of his, as if I were some part of t
Jennifer The thing about men, especially men who work nights, smell faintly of stale deodorant and cheap aftershave, and have just enough local authority to feel themselves important in very small, sad little ways, is that most of them will tell you almost anything if you smile like they’ve alread
LucasOnce the meeting broke, the yard changed from listening to calculation. That was always the part I preferred. Talk mattered, but only up to a point. Too much of it and you began to smell performance, all heat and no action. Garrick understood that. He always had. Say what needed saying, let e
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