Three years ago, Evelyn Hart divorced the most infuriating man she'd ever loved. Lucian Vale was gorgeous, obscenely wealthy, devastatingly charming, and apparently incapable of explaining why he disappeared every Thursday night. She assumed he was cheating. He wasn't. He was collecting souls. Now Evelyn has accidentally inherited a supernatural debt worth thirteen million dollars, three ancient blood oaths, and one very irritated demon prince who insists she belongs to him. Lucian has exactly seven days to keep his ex-wife alive. There's just one problem. The contract protecting Evelyn requires them to be married. And Evelyn would rather go to Hell than marry Lucian Vale again. Unfortunately, Hell is beginning to look like a very real possibility.

My boyfriend loves me. My fated mate wants me. And my body apparently didn't get the memo that I'm already taken. At twenty-six, I have a good job, a promising new home, and a boyfriend who remembers my coffee order, makes me laugh, and loves me exactly as I am. Ben Carter is handsome, thoughtful, loyal, and genuinely wonderful in bed. Yes, ladies. They exist. I'm planning a future with him. So naturally, that's when I meet Grant Matthews. Tall. Dark. Ridiculously handsome. Successful. Confident enough to make a woman forget what she was saying. And apparently incapable of understanding why I don't want him staring at me. Also, he smells like a wet dog. A very attractive, very expensive wet dog. I wish I were kidding. What I don't know is that Grant isn't just some annoyingly gorgeous accountant. He's an Alpha. I'm apparently a late-presenting Omega. And according to some deeply inconvenient supernatural biology, we're fated mates. There's just one problem. I already love someone else. I don't want another man. I don't need another man. And I certainly don't intend to throw away a perfectly happy relationship because my hormones have developed an unhealthy interest in a stranger. Except something is happening to me. My senses are changing. My body reacts to Grant before my brain can object. And that disgusting wet-dog smell? It's starting to smell suspiciously like cinnamon. Worse, Grant is nothing like the possessive, arrogant caveman I expected. He's intelligent. Infuriatingly composed. Surprisingly funny. And when he looks at me, there's something in his eyes that makes me wonder exactly how much effort he's putting into keeping his hands to himself. Because I can feel it too. The tension. The pull. The increasingly unacceptable urge to stand much too close to a man who isn't my boyfriend. Grant knows what the bond means. I have no idea what it's doing to me. And Ben? Ben is still the wonderful man I fell in love with. How am I supposed to choose between the man who already has my heart and the man my instincts refuse to let me forget? I didn't ask for an Alpha. I didn't ask for a fated mate. And I definitely didn't ask to find myself sniffing another man's collar like a deranged woman investigating a bakery. But apparently fate has a sense of humor. And I'm beginning to suspect I'm the punchline.