nor

hiskey-soaked blur. I woke up to blinding New York sun

t black Egyptian cotton. I looked down and realized I was drowning in a crisp, white men's button-down shirt that smell

eized m

lying in a crumpled heap near a leather armchair. Its side seam was violently rip

ss. What

en-suite bathroom slid open. A

oplets still clinging to the carved muscles of his chest, tracing paths down rid

ing, heavy blend of sharp cedarwood, a raging rainstorm, and rich Cuban tobacco-it slammed into me l

ng. And my body re

stammered, my voice trembling as I instinctively backed away. "Last night. The alcohol

't say

e. I couldn't hear the inner wolf tearing at his mind-I was wolfless, deaf to that part of

low, lethal grace. Every step deliberate

hit the freezing edge of the massive bla

ap

radiated against my skin, and I had to tilt my head back ju

world s

ck, right on the collarbone-a deep, red, unm

ite

scent. The sheer panic. My teeth sinking into his burning skin in

vibrated straight through my chest. It wasn't loud. It didn'

screaming in absolute terror. "I can go to a pharmac

thless scof

down at me as if my human solution to a deeply primal werewolf

of the island, and poured himself a cup of black coffee. Every movement was c

y heart hammering

ter and tossed it across the marble. It slid,

Street

KING ACQUISITION. Below the bold text was a high-definition photo of the m

n Bla

man world, he was Wall Street's most cold-blooded predator-a billionaire

ckw

was a Lycan. The apex predator of the werewolf hierarchy. A myth of unimagin

e a child's game. I, a defective, wolfless outcast,

hilling, calculated emptiness. He set the mug down, reached into the pock

trembling, terrified being-that my