GiaI woke to the piercing sound of the smoke alarm. My eyes took a second to adjust, and as I swallowed my heart back down, I sucked in a lungful of bacon-infused air. Bacon and burned toast.“Shit! Fucking grill,” Kian complained from the kitchen.Just when I thought he couldn’t be more perfect, he exceeded my expectations by cooking me breakfast. Or at least he was trying to.I flung back the comforter and got out of bed, stretching my arms with a yawn. My bruises were gone. There wasn’t one visible mark on my body. It was as if nothing had happened.My stomach rumbled, and I followed the charred scent wafting my way through the smog. Kian was standing by the stove wearing the boxer briefs he’d slept in, tossing a burned piece of toast between his hands.“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled.“You know what they say; if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen,” I commented, announcing my presence.Kian sent the toast hurtling through the open window like a smoldering Frisbee. No

GiaTwo days ago, I saw a side to Kian that scared me. The rage in his eyes only came from experiencing a taste of Hell. I’ve seen it before because I’ve lived through it. Unlike some people, Kian isn’t too far gone to be saved. I know there is a good man lurking underneath all that pain and anger. He just doesn’t like to show it because he’s afraid to seem weak.“Do you want to watch one more episode before we call it a night?” I asked, noticing Kian yawn for the third time in five minutes.“Nah, let’s go to bed and cuddle,” Kian replied, his words sounding sleep-drunk and slurred.We spent the past few days eating pizza and binge-watching Lucifer, seasons one to three, and we still had more to go. I didn’t think he would enjoy it, but it seemed I was wrong. My man couldn’t get enough of Mr. Morningstar’s amazing personality, which meant Kian and I did a lot of Netflix and chilling, but we hadn’t crossed the point of no return yet. Sex was on the horizon; it was killing us both to re

Kian“Yeah well, there’s more,” I told her. “Mom was holding a letter. I had to pull it from her fingers to read it. It was a hand-delivered telegram from the council of elders, telling her that Dad had been killed in action — shot dead by hunters. My old man — my hero — gone. Just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “My life went downhill from there on in. Mrs. B passed away. I killed a man in the Cage, and as a result, they kicked me out of school. Goodbye, scholarship. Lucky for me, the Roughnecks had my back. The rest is history.”This was me, letting my walls down to show her my vulnerable side, giving her the chance to cut and run while she still had a chance.“So, then you came to live here,” Gia inquired. “This is going to sound like a stupid question, but do you still miss them?”My lips curled into a wistful smile. “Sometimes. I guess their ending was poetic, in a fucked-up way. They couldn’t stand to be in the same room as one another for too long, and now they’re entombed to

KianUsually, women didn't miss a fucking thing. They could sniff out whenever the slightest thing was out of place. Or was that just when they're being paranoid or pissed off about something? I'll be damned if I know. There was enough time for me to nip to the kitchen, grab the champagne — no fancy glasses because I didn't think that far ahead — so I settled for highball glasses instead.As I came back in the room and set the champagne and glasses down on the nightstand, Gia practically landed on the box before realizing it was there. I curled my fingers around my jaw in an observational pose. She was such a fucking mystery.She picked up the box to inspect it. "What's this?" she asked."Open it and find out," I replied, finding her actions funny.As soon as she saw what it contained, she squealed the apartment down like a screaming banshee, jumping on me and ambushing me with kisses."Oh my God, Kian, it's beautiful," she exclaimed before bursting into tears.I froze like an idiot.

GiaPaparazzi pointed cameras in our faces, snapping pictures like maniacs. The light blinded me, making it hard to see a single fucking thing. White dots danced in my vision, and all I could hear was chaos happening all around us. Since getting kidnapped by rogue wolves and a wayward werebear, my cage-fighting hero, Kian Jones, a biker bear from the Roughnecks Motorcycle Club, had rescued me, carried me to his den on his steel horse, married me, bit me on the ass, and rocked my world between the sheets. My hubby’s fame drew attention wherever we went. Five minutes ago, we were at the courthouse signing our mating license, and now reporters were shoving cameras and microphones in our faces.“This is breaking news! Forest Hills' very own notorious celebrity, the Beast, has just been spotted at Town Hall with a woman who appears to be his mate. Phew! Don’t you just love the smell of pheromones?” a blonde-haired news reporter spoke into the camera from a few feet away from us.Press mobb