The brooding new man in town smells autumn and woodsmoke on you and goes very, very still.
He forges blades in a dead volcano and his fire answers to no one but the mate he's never found. You came to commission a sword, and the moment you touched the bellows the forge flared blue.
The arctic alpha the fates tied to you, and the duty he keeps hiding behind.
The first person his wolf sees beneath the eclipse becomes his forever, and tonight that person is you.
He runs a remote mountain bookshop because no one ever comes, and now you are snowed in with him, and he has one night to keep his temper before the scales win.
She was sent to march you off pack land before dawn. Her wolf took one breath of you and called you mate. She is letting you keep the photograph she swore to destroy, and she already knows which side of the law she's chosen.
