LOGINSixteen years of marriage. Two children. A shared world built on lies, and now she knows. Devon never wanted this fate. Never wanted to find his mate, not when he’d already built a life with a woman he chose… And one he’s now destined to lose. When secrets unravel and truths claw their way to the surface, Eleanor doesn’t break. She burns. And Devon? He must choose between the love he built… And the soul that was never his to deny. But time is running out. The hunters are closing in, and the one who owns his heart is out there, unprotected. “You will reject him, Devon. You will renounce this bond.” “I can’t,” he says. Not now. Not ever. This isn’t just the collapse of a marriage. It’s the start of a war— Between the man he was… and the beast he cannot hide.
View MoreJIMMIE POV“Clem, wait!”My lungs were on fire as I ran through the thick, mangled underbrush of the forest. The moonlight cut through the canopy in jagged flashes of silver, illuminating the back of my cousin’s head as she led the way through the ancient pines.“Come on, Jimmie! Catch me if you can!” Clem’s laughter echoed through the trees, a musical, taunting sound."This isn't funny anymore! I can’t keep up!" I screamed into the night, my heart thudding against my ribs."Don't be a chicken, Jimmie!" Her response sounded distant now, fading into the rustle of leaves and the hoot of an owl.I rolled my eyes, pushing my legs to move faster. I was so happy to see her again—to feel this carefree, even if it was just a game. I burst through the final line of trees, stumbling into a vast open space, but the laughter died in my throat. I froze.The mood had changed. The living woods were gone, replaced by a clearing thick with a dense, chilling white fog."Clem?" I called out. No response.
DEAR WONDERFUL READERS,First and foremost, I want to say a massive THANK YOU for walking this beautiful, wild journey with me. To my dedicated readers who stayed by my side, through every twist, turn, and even my moments of inconsistency—your patience and passion kept me writing. This story belongs to you as much as it does to me.If you’ve enjoyed Devon and Jimmie’s story, please consider recommending it to your friends, family, or anyone you know who loves a story filled with heart, heat, and adventure! Your recommendations help this pack grow stronger.I am also thrilled to announce my next project: "TIMOTHY: MY FORBIDDEN TEMPTATION." I promise you a story filled with the same raw emotion, soul-shifting scenes, and intense dialogue that you’ve come to expect from my work. It is currently a work in progress, but updates will begin very shortly, and I can't wait for you to meet these new characters.As a token of my deepest appreciation for your loyalty, I have decided to make the fi
Jimmie POVThe hum of the limo’s engine was a low, steady vibration that felt like a purr against my skin. I rested my head on Devon’s chest, the expensive wool of his suit jacket soft against my cheek, and let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for years.I still couldn’t believe it. The summit, the sea of flashes, the way the world held its breath when Devon claimed me in front of everyone. The kisses... God, the kisses. I could still feel the phantom pressure of his lips on mine, a brand that told the world exactly who I belonged to.As the car sped through the darkened streets of Astria toward the new pack house, I let my mind wander. We had moved months ago, and Woodland was finally breathing again. It wasn't just a fortress anymore; it was a home. We’d even opened a wing for visitors—humans who wanted to see the legend for themselves. Stella had taken to her role as the pack librarian and tour guide with a grace that made the transition seamless.And the boys... my heart
~~ A Month Later~~DEVON POVThe flashbulbs were a rhythmic, blinding staccato against the evening sky. A month had passed, but the world’s hunger for the truth had only grown ravenous."Mr President! Over here!""President Devon, a statement on the rumours!"The shouts of the global press corps were a wall of sound as Jimmie and I stepped out of the black armoured vehicle. I didn't let go of his hand. Not for a second. We were both dressed in perfectly tailored midnight-black suits, the fabric shimmering slightly under the heavy spotlighting of the Vahsava Summit’s grand entrance.This night had been postponed three times. First by the insurgency, then by the mourning of our fallen, and finally by the sheer logistical weight of hosting the world’s leaders in a country that had just revealed it was led by a predator. I knew why they had come. It wasn't just for trade agreements or border treaties; they wanted the "President’s Mate." They wanted to see the man who had tamed the Silver A






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