STORY EXCERPT

It might’ve been the cold, or maybe prison, squirming ghostlike at the edge of his mind, but Alex just kept shivering, wedged behind a tree, eyes fixed on the house. He held his breath. Waited.

The place was clear.

All that was left was to sneak back in and find his wallet. His golden ticket. The only way he might be able to scrape even halfway free of this mess.

Well. Not free. Not really. He still had Drew’s death on his hands.

He’d killed a guy.

No one could undo that.

It was a fact stamped on his bones now, making him nauseous if he let it slip into the foreground.

“I’m a killer,” he whispered, seconds away from vomiting. So you can leave more DNA at the crime scene?

Alex hunched, staying tight behind the trees, scanning the yard again. Nobody. He crept out of the bushes, snagged a foot on a root—almost went flying, but didn’t—and then hurried for the crummy rental with its peeling paint, the place he’d been lured to like a mouse to a trap.

Lured. There was no other word for it.

If he could get his wallet back, maybe he’d never have to see what the inside of a prison cell looked like.

Pro: No prison jumpsuit. No humans finding out he wasn’t.

Con: Valcore would drag things out, make it slow for Alex, before finishing the job. And Alex knew he would. He wasn’t kidding himself. The demon wouldn’t hesitate to end him.

Refocus. Double-check the world outside. Nothing. No one. It’s time. But he hesitated.

Don’t think about how easy it is for people to disappear in the mountains. Just get the wallet. Get out.

“I’m so fucked.”

Drew, the charming bastard, had lured Alex there. Every detail—the location, the timing, the suggestion they meet up—it had all been about tying up loose ends, about offing Alex like an epic finale. Alex had been milliseconds away from tasting death.

With a thudding pulse, he darted for the front door, trying to slip beneath the arc of the porch light, sticking to every shadow. He was lucky. Night had fallen, so he didn’t have to hide out in the soggy woods for hours.

If only he could shift. But the magic collar around his neck prevented his bunny from getting free.

He grabbed the doorknob. Locked. Of course it was locked. What genius expected an open door after fleeing a murder scene? He pictured the cops in there, securing the scene, finding the wallet, maybe even taking bets on whether he was even alive or on the lam.

Alex held onto hope anyway.

That, inside, some miraculous stroke of luck was waiting for him. But nope. Absolutely not. How would he find hope if he couldn’t even get inside?

Glancing around, he made sure nobody was watching then slipped along the edge of the house, pebbles crunching underfoot like brittle bones.

Will you stop thinking about death?

Damn it! The bedroom window—the same escape route he’d used before, was locked tight. Now all he had left was the slap of humiliation and the creeping edge of panic.

No wallet.

No cash.

No friends.

Just the cold and that gnawing ache in his stomach.

Maybe jail wouldn’t be so bad. At least they fed you and threw in a cot. Was that pathetic? He actually laughed at himself, a miserable, bitter huff. “You think the jail’s a Motel 6, dipshit? Turn yourself in, they’ll stick you in a cell and throw away the key.” Then discover he wasn’t aging. Not like a human would.

Why the hell had he trusted Drew in the first place? Drew and his crooked half-smile, eyes that sparkled with trouble. Alex should’ve known. Pretty boys like Drew didn’t end up with guys like him.

It was some kind of cosmic law.

But then, out of nowhere, a thought struck him. What if there was a café in town? All Alex had to do was find one, charge his dead phone, and ping his wallet’s location in two seconds flat.

Easy. Just like that, a trickle of hope wormed its way in.

He set off for the road, hugging himself against the cold, his boots barely making a sound in the darkness. The shuffle, the hope, the pathetic little need to get back what was his.

Coffee shop, coffee shop, coffee shop. He wandered, searching every block, peering into the fuzzy glow of windows. And when he finally spotted one, for a second, Alex almost yelled in relief.

Then reality popped his happy balloon. The café was closed for the night. Lights out. Sign flicked to CLOSED in block letters.

Crap.

Another night outside? Just the thought made his stomach sink. Last night he’d crashed in the woods, tangled up with the undergrowth, trying to convince himself a pile of leaves made a good enough blanket. Even in his bunny form, with a coat of white fur, Alex had been freezing.

Now what?

With no wallet, and no other option, Alex trudged back toward the woods. His stomach rumbled, a low, embarrassing sound, and the scent from the diner drifted over like it meant business. It stopped him in front of the glass door, staring at the linoleum and the clatter and, somewhere, the promise of food.

Food he could almost taste.

He had just about convinced himself to walk away—totally normal, nothing to see here, definitely not a guy with no money just lurking on the sidewalk—when the door shoved open. A guy strode out, letting a waterfall of warm air and grilled meat and French fries tumble over Alex. And coffee, a sharp, dark scent that wrapped around him, squeezing all the way to his hollow gut.

Without thinking, he spun back around, inhaling deeply, trying to capture some tiny molecule of satisfaction from the aromas alone.

But what he got was something else. Something wild. Earthy.

Wolf.

ADULT EXCERPT

The sun crept up past the curtains. Alex woke with Wade pressed against his back.

There was actually a warm, half-naked, fully muscled wolf shifter spooning him in a very cheerful, slightly possessive way.

If comfort had a flavor, it would taste like this. Skin against skin, sunlight hitting their faces, and, somewhere in the vicinity, the faint scent of coffee drifting up from the kitchen.

If this was what mating looked like, Alex couldn’t really find the motivation to protest.

He might have moved, shoved Wade’s arm off, and started plotting an escape. But there was something about being held, maybe the way those strong fingers curled around his hip, that made leaving seem like a tragic misuse of opportunity.

Instead, he just lay there, watching dust motes spin in the sunlight, letting the wolf’s presence settle into him.

It took a moment to process. This was now “home.” This was his “mate.”

The memory of last night drifted in. Rain, adrenaline, handcuffs, and finally this bed, where Wade had just wrapped around Alex and refused to let go.

For once, the nightmares had stayed away.

He risked shifting a little, only to discover Wade’s arm was slung over his waist and both of Alex’s legs were tangled in the comforter, bunny-style.

Getting free wasn’t really a thing unless Wade consented to it, and judging by the little huff of breath on the back of Alex’s neck, that wasn’t happening any time soon.

So. This was the new normal. Helplessly pinned by a wolf who could probably bench-press a Prius.

Most people would panic.

Alex decided to enjoy it.

The heat of Wade’s skin bled right through Alex’s shirt, sliding down his back with every subtle movement.

His mate’s hand rested low, suspiciously close to some very interesting territory.

No matter how Alex shifted, Wade’s chest pressed firmly into his back, every exhale fogging the fine hairs along Alex’s nape. Wade’s cock, already stiffening with that blessed, predictable morning wood, nestled against the cleft of Alex’s ass.

His mate shifted again, hips rolling lazily. Now the cock pressed harder against Alex’s ass.

He wasn’t sure if Wade was really awake. Maybe wolves sleep-humped. Maybe this was a medical issue and should be addressed by a specialist. Or maybe—and this seemed most likely—his mate was doing it on purpose.

Alex waited, seeing if anything else would happen. One minute passed then two. He counted his own heartbeats, acutely aware of the heat building behind him. Sweat slicked the back of his neck, but he didn’t hate it.

Another breath. Then, out of nowhere, Wade’s hand snaked under the shirt and landed flat on Alex’s stomach.

“Morning,” Wade murmured, voice rough and low, rumbling directly into Alex’s ear.

Alex almost startled, but the hand on his stomach held him firmly in place. His mouth worked for something clever, but all that came out was, “Hey.”

Smooth, Alex.

Wade’s thumb moved in slow circles across Alex’s skin. “You’re warm.”

Could have said the same. Instead, Alex just raised a skeptical eyebrow, which, given the current position, went unnoticed.

“Do you always snuggle like this?” He tried for sarcasm, but there wasn’t much air in his lungs.

Wade’s nose nuzzled up behind his ear, mouth grazing the spot gently. “Only when I’ve got something worth holding on to.”

 Those words steadied Alex, maybe because he’d never been anchored to anything before, unless you counted trauma.

Wade didn’t let up. The hand on Alex’s stomach slipped lower, fingertips tracing the waistband of his pajama pants, inch by tantalizing inch, forcing Alex to decide. Lean into the touch or risk being accused of not being a morning person.

He’d barely decided when Wade’s hips pressed closer. Wade’s cock, undeniably hard, ground into Alex’s ass, separated by one miserable layer of fabric.

Alex wasn’t made of steel. His own cock twitched in response, practically shoving itself into Wade’s hand as if to say, “Hey! There’s a party here and I wasn’t invited?”

Wade’s lips ghosted across the back of Alex’s neck. “You smell so fucking good in the morning.”

This was the part where Alex might’ve said something witty or self-deprecating, only Wade’s hand sneaked under the waistband and found Alex’s cock with surgical precision.

One slow stroke, then two, and Alex forgot every joke he’d ever known.

Wade used his tongue, lips, and teeth to worship Alex’s skin. The guy’s mouth was a weapon—kissing, sucking, nipping, leaving marks that would’ve made Alex blush if he had any sense left.

Wade’s cock flexed against his ass, leaving Alex wondering if the guy even noticed that he’d turned the snuggling into a full-body assault on Alex’s self-control.

Judging by the grip on Alex’s cock, it seemed safe to assume yes.

Wade’s hand tightened, pumping Alex’s cock with a slow, rhythmic motion, while his mouth found a spot on Alex’s neck and refused to leave it alone. Teeth grazed skin, not quite gentle but not rough either, just enough to warn Alex what was coming.

He moaned or maybe whimpered. It was embarrassing, but what else could he do when his mate was jerking Alex off like it was his life’s work?

Wade’s teeth grazed just above Alex’s collarbone. “Gonna fuck you, honey bunny. Want you that way first thing in the morning.”