Draconic Language

Rachel Sinclair lost everything when a fraud conviction destroyed her life as a social worker. Five years later, she's reinvented herself as Raven Steele—a woman with a clean past and a dangerous mission. Her target: the Diamondback Motorcycle Club, a vicious criminal organization that operates with impunity while the system looks the other way. Using the forgotten murder of a small-time dealer as her cover story, Raven infiltrates the deadly world of motorcycle clubs. But her carefully laid plans collide with Jax Savage, the devastatingly dangerous president of the Savage Saints MC. Muscular, tattooed, and lethal, Jax has been waging his own war against the Diamondbacks since they murdered his younger brother. What starts as a tactical alliance quickly ignites into an attraction neither can resist. As Raven goes deeper undercover with the enemy, feeding intelligence to Jax while maintaining her cover, the line between duty and desire blurs. But in a world where trust is a weapon and love is a liability, their growing connection threatens to destroy everything they've worked for. When Raven's deception leads to a devastating blow against the Diamondbacks, she becomes the target of a deadly bounty. Forced to reveal her criminal past to the man she's falling for, she must decide if their connection is strong enough to survive the truth. With enemies closing in and a war erupting in the streets, Raven and Jax face an impossible choice: save themselves or save each other. In the savage world of motorcycle clubs, some hearts are worth fighting for—and some are worth dying for. *Content warning: Contains explicit language, violence, mature themes, and sexual content. Recommended for readers 18+.*

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.