A drug lord wants Rosie dead. Making friends with a werewolf may be the only way to stay alive...
Rosie had everything. A job as a cop, a lover, and a great future. That was six months ago. Now she has a scarred face, no job, and has lived through betrayal. Her only choice is to head for the hills when a drug lord comes after her. If not, others could get hurt.
Connor doesn't fit in with his wolf pack and his scars mean he has never found a mate. Rosie could be that mate or she could be the death of him.
Rosie held her breath as the steps got closer. This was ridiculous. Whoever they were had helped by pulling her van out of the ditch. For reassurance, she kept her hand on the cool metal of her gun in the bag. Why would they hurt her? That was easy to answer. There were idiots everywhere who wanted to hurt people because someone had done them wrong. Rosie glanced out the door to see the shadow of huge person on the road, or maybe it was the light playing tricks on her. Nope, it was real.
Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the man who stood next to the open door. He had to be six feet tall and looked like a wall of muscle in his tight t-shirt. Even his jeans encased well-built thighs. His brown hair was cropped close to his head and his face was unshaven.
Rosie had seen enough tough guys on the beat as a cop and his menacing look and piercing brown eyes should have intimidated even her. It didn’t. For some reason, calm oozed through her as she let out a long breath. It must be the knock to the head sending her loopy. She even took her hand off her gun.
Rosie left the van with clenched fists, ready for what was to come. As usual, things didn’t go to plan. Her legs went to jelly when her feet touched the ground. Everything went fuzzy and the world tuned to black.
Conner moved fast to grab the woman before she hit the road. His whole body responded to touching her. Tingles zoomed through him as if electric shocks were spreading out to his fingers and toes. As he stared at her, Conner could almost envision the bond between her chest and his like a shining white cord.
What the hell. He was imprinting. Connor hadn’t thought it would ever happen, and if it did, no one would want him. He was a loner, with a body covered in scars. Any female wolf would be repulsed by him and fight the attraction. The thought of a woman being tied to him and staring in pity would be too much to bare.
All of that aside, he could not tear his gaze away from the woman in his arms. Her face was scarred.