I felt so foolish letting my tiredness overwhelm me like that. My wolf nudged and pressed me to keep my eyes shut however hard I fought against it. It took my wolf suggesting the babies were in danger if I kept trying to stand up to finally slump into the frozen air. My tired wolf spirit sternly reminded me of the days and nights trudging through the snow, restless sleeps, poor or no food too. Underneath my coat, there is a sizable bump now. Every day, I tread a little closer to entering another alien land. Parenthood. I swing between terror and excitement. Trudging through the snow, I tried thinking of names and came up with nothing. Yet in my dreams, I smell rosemary, entwined with warm baking. I’m busy at a wooden kitchen island. Cyrus leans over it, watching. Baby babbles in the background. His sun-dappled face is silently studying me, his huge arms resting on the wood. Pure strength and power. Honey glinting in his hazel-eyed gaze. Every muscle begins to relax. He's my mate.

Raggedly panting, staring at our red, flush faces in the mirror, I let out a soft giggle. Instead of smiling back, Cyrus immediately reached high above me for a towel and soaked it in cold water. Applying it lovingly to my reddened cheeks, I stood up, watching his movements in our shared reflection. His rugged face was a mix of desire and guilt. “You need to use the safe word, you know. If I were to ever hurt you-” “If I ever needed to, I would. But why would I stop you when it feels so good?” “Don’t,” he growled darkly, planting kisses on my collarbone, “you’ll fill my head with ideas.” I leaned backwards, resting the top of my head on his chest so my eyes gazed up at him. Gold still flickered in his eyes as he took in my naked body, his seed was rapidly escaping between my thighs. He growled again as I slid my hand between my legs. “Ideas like what? Tell me?” “Angel…” Furrowing my brow, I whispered, “What are you scared of? Look at me," allowing my other hand to snake up into

Even though Mireille is apparently useless at hiding her sore, presumably well spanked ass by gliding onto the mattress as awkwardly as a three-legged bull, her advice was sound. I can do it. I just need to set everything up. Reject Ryan, make a quick, painless getaway, and start living for me. Easy as pie. Sneaking past the dining hall, dominated by a huge stone fireplace and long wooden tables, I caught sight of Ryan eating breakfast. Sat alone, just rubbing his beard in thought, stirring his porridge with a sour expression. Turning away from the door threshold, a familiar pair of hands grabbed me, and I found myself looking straight at my father. His green eyes sparkled to see me, quickly pushing some stray tendrils behind my ears and cupping my face. “Hi,” I whispered. “I need you to do something for me.” He nodded, tapping his heart in ready willingness. “I need Arlen. He has the key to the snowmobiles? Then I want you to stand guard while... I reject Ryan, just in case he

I couldn’t have gotten this more wrong. Hope is there and I’m my fucking wolf form. My so-called rescue has turned into a sick joke. If I shift back I’ll be dead in half an hour. She’s staring at me with her iris ablaze with rosy-pink colour and it takes my breath away. It might actually be a good thing I’ve shifted because I’d have already grabbed her and babbled desperate nonsense before trying to kiss her. I need to get this right. One shot, one desperate opportunity to try and earn forgiveness from a woman who still mumbles about beating the shit out of Elvie in her sleep. I don’t think about Ryan. The taste of his blood is fresh in my mouth, scraps of his once-warm remains are wedged under my claws. That's kinder than he deserved. Her bruised eye and swelling jaw tell me everything I need to know. Even if she hadn’t got to rejecting him yet, the guy didn’t deserve to live a second longer. My father said he would be disappointed in me, if I took a life. I can live with tha

Throughout the night, none of us get any rest. Trucks continue to arrive full of expectant fathers and brothers. All who want to believe the rumours aren't true. The first thing they all do after leaping out of their cabs, wearing and tired, is ask for their relatives and friends. The brave group of men who stayed behind to hand over the supplies to Raze and his crew of machine-gun wielding thugs. The plan was to hand over the goods and return to the Light, sit out the Freeze, and fight for my freedom. The more I think about the cruel move Raze made, the less I resent Dee’s poisoning. Cyrus keeps asking me to rest, but I feel I owe every arrival my time. The crushing guilt I feel at surviving multiplies with every arrival. The guilt is so severe because I haven't just survived, made it out of a husk of a person like poor Hope. I've exploded into a joyous life. Now I'm forced to look into the crinkled eyes of desperate men as they realise their prayers have been ignored whilst mine