LOGINThe word "Cut" usually acted like a physical barrier in my world. It was the moment the heat died, the moment the sweat felt cold, and the moment the man on top of me became a stranger again. But as Gary’s voice echoed through the warehouse, Jaxon didn’t pull away. He didn’t reach for a towel. He didn’t even blink.His fingers dug into my hips, his knuckles white against my pale skin, anchoring me to the fake leather of the sofa. He was still moving, a heavy, rhythmic assault that had nothing to do with the storyboard."Jaxon, stop! We got the shot!" Gary yelled, his shadow dancing across the floor as he approached the edge of the set. "The light is blowing out, man! Reset for the close-up!"Jaxon didn't even look at him. He leaned down, his mouth hovering just an inch from my ear, his breath coming in jagged, burning hitches. "Tell him to leave, Cherisse," he growled, his voice a gravelly ruin that vibrated through my entire chest. "Tell him if he doesn't walk away right now, I’m goi
The air in the studio was thick, a cloying mix of hairspray, cheap perfume, and the heavy musk of too many bodies in a confined space. I sat on a stool in the "backstage" area, which was just a corner of the warehouse separated by a black curtain. An assistant was touching up my makeup, her brush feathering over my cheekbones as if she were applying paint to a canvas. She didn't look at my eyes. No one ever did here.To them, I was just Cherisse, the performer. The name on the contract. The body in the scene."Okay, Cherisse, you're on in five!" the director, a man with a perpetually sweaty face named Gary, shouted from across the room.I stood up, my heels clicking against the concrete floor. The wardrobe for this scene was sparse—a sheer black lace body suit and a pair of thigh-high boots that felt like a second skin. It wasn't about fashion; it was about accessibility and a visual cue for the camera.Gary was standing next to my co-star for the day, a man who called himself Jaxon.
The voice in my head—that cold, feminine whisper—faded as the sun finally broke over the horizon, but the chill it left behind stayed in my bones. I looked at Mavros. He was still dead to the world, his massive body draped across mine like a fallen oak. The mark on my neck was throbbing, a rhythmic heat that felt like a second heartbeat. It wasn't just a wound anymore; it was a doorway. I could feel his dreams—dark, stormy, and filled with the scent of pine and blood.I shifted, the movement making the floorboards groan. Mavros’s eyes snapped open instantly. The amber was gone, replaced by a deep, molten gold that seemed to swallow the morning light. He didn't say a word. He just reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck, his thumb grazing the fresh, jagged skin of the mark."You heard it too," he whispered, his voice a gravelly ruin."The voice?" I breathed, my heart starting to race again. "She said your mark would never heal, Mavros. She called you a murderer."Mavr
The pain of the bite was a white-hot iron, a searing intrusion that felt like it was rewriting my DNA. I screamed, but the sound was swallowed by Mavros’s throat as he held me against the mattress, his teeth locked into my scent gland. For a heartbeat, the world stopped. The rain, the smashed furniture, the smell of Silas’s blood—it all vanished, replaced by a sudden, violent flood of images that weren't mine.I wasn't in the cabin anymore. I was seeing through his eyes.I saw a field of ash under a moonless sky. I felt the weight of a heavy, silver-bladed axe in my hand and the cold, suffocating guilt of a secret that smelled like burnt ozone. There was a body at my feet—another Alpha, older, with eyes that looked exactly like Mavros’s. The previous leader. His father.I didn't have a choice, a voice that sounded like a younger version of Mavros whispered in the back of my mind. If I didn't kill him, the whole pack would have burned.Then, as quickly as it had started, the vision sna
The sound tore through the heavy, sex-thick air of the cabin like a jagged blade. It wasn't the wind, and it wasn't a warning. It was a challenge. A long, mournful, and terrifyingly close howl that vibrated against the windowpanes. Another Alpha.Mavros froze. His body, which had been a rhythmic machine of muscle and heat, turned into a statue of cold granite. He was still buried deep inside me, his heart thumping like a war drum against my chest, but his head snapped toward the shattered door. His amber eyes didn't just glow anymore; they bled a dark, murderous red."Stay down," he growled.It wasn't a suggestion. It was the Alpha command, a physical weight that pinned my shoulders to the floorboards. I couldn't move even if I wanted to. I lay there, exposed and trembling, the cooling sweat on my skin turning into ice as the reality of the world outside crashed back into our private sanctuary.Mavros pulled out of me with a wet, agonizingly slow slide that made me whimper. He didn't
The rain was hammering against the roof now, a frantic, rhythmic drumming that matched the blood thumping in my ears. Mavros didn't move. He stayed pinned against me, his heavy weight a physical anchor in the middle of my chaos. I could feel every inch of him—the rough callouses on his palms, the damp heat of his skin, and the terrifying, thick reality of his desire pressing against my thigh."Look at me, Aurelia," he commanded.His voice was a low vibration that made my stomach flip. I forced my eyes open, my vision blurred by the sweat stinging my lids. His amber eyes were glowing in the dark, hungry and predatory. He didn't look like a man anymore; he looked like the wolf that lived under his skin, finally allowed to see the light."You're so slick," he whispered, his hand sliding down to the junction of my thighs.I let out a sharp, jagged gasp, my head slamming back against the floorboards. His fingers were blunt and demanding, finding exactly where the heat was most concentrated
The walls in my sister’s guest room were too thin. I could hear the hum of the air conditioning, the distant sound of a car passing by outside, and the silence of a house that felt like it was holding its breath. I was lying on top of the sheets, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of lace panties and
The wood of the cabin was old, smelling of rot and dried pine, but it was the only thing standing between me and the madness outside. I sat on the floor, my back pressed against the heavy oak door, my fingers digging into my own thighs. I was burning. It wasn't a fever; it was something deeper, som
The silence in the room was louder than the screaming in my head. Julian’s weight was still crushing me into the mattress, his body still buried deep inside mine, pulsing with a rhythm he couldn't stop. I stared at the door, my eyes wide, watching the sliver of light from the hallway.Creak.That w







