Who’d think to bring silver bullets to a wedding? When Isabelle “Izzy” Meyers arrives in Montana and discovers her human foster brother is marrying into the local werewolf pack, she wishes she’d brought an arsenal. Werewolves can’t be trusted, and Izzy should know…she is one.
Luke Wyland never planned on becoming the Alpha. He’s still navigating how to protect the pack from the rogue threat that’s been hunting in his territory, claiming his father as one of their victims. Yet the moment Luke lays eyes on Izzy, something primal takes root. Finding a mate who wants nothing to do with him is a complication he doesn’t need, but letting Izzy go isn’t an option.
After a childhood marred by shifter violence, Luke is everything Izzy was raised to hate. So then why does being with him feel so intensely right? With a thinning pack to defend, Luke knows what he has to do: embolden Izzy to unleash her true nature—or risk losing everything.
A low growl sounded in the gathering dusk.
The cop grabbed the dark-haired man by the arm and got snarled at for his trouble. He hissed something Izzy couldn’t make out over the whoosh of blood in her head. Obviously, the man didn’t care what the cop said, because he never took his hungry gaze off her.
As she stared into those glinting eyes, another hot flush rushed over her skin, tingling like electricity.
The man’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look mad.
He looked like he wanted to eat her alive.
She must have tipped over the edge into insanity, because her own hunger intensified, shifting into something primal, something sensual. Instead of running away from him, she wanted to run toward him, wanted--
The shifting wind blew in her face, carrying a scent she’d hoped never to encounter again. Terror weakened her knees and sent icy pinpricks across her over-heated flesh.
In Izzy’s mind, her grandmother’s voice shrieked, “They’re evil! Run, hide, fight.”
The beautiful, dark-haired man. He was one of them. The cop, too.
Her already-primed muscles screamed at her to flee. But she couldn’t leave Freddie and Ris--
Izzy’s gaze whipped to her brother. He stood a dozen feet away, holding Rissa’s hands.
“No!” Izzy covered the distance without blinking.
Grabbing Freddie, she pushed him behind her, and snapped out a kick that sent Rissa tumbling back six feet.
Not far enough. Nowhere near far enough.
Not when it came to these things.
As she tried to wrestle Freddie toward the helo, a well-dressed woman in her fifties burst from the office. Three men ran out of the hangars.
Izzy whipped the knife from the sheath at the small of her back. Her whole life, she’d hidden from these creatures. Now they surrounded her.
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