Sera Voss was born on the wrong side of a war that never ended. Her pack, the Ashwood wolves, has hated the Draven pack for three generations, ever since a broken treaty left blood on the border. So when her Alpha father announces she is to be given in an arranged mating to end the feud, Sera expects a stranger. She does not expect Kane Draven, heir to the enemy throne, the wolf whose eyes haunted her dreams before she ever learned his name.Kane has spent his whole life being told that love is a weakness Alphas cannot afford. He agrees to the mating for one reason only, to stop his father from marching both packs into a war neither can survive. He does not expect the girl in the white dress to already feel like something he has lost before. He does not expect the mate bond to slam into him the moment she looks up.Now Sera and Kane are bound by a law that was supposed to keep the peace, and by a pull that neither of them chose. Every pack elder is watching. Every enemy is waiting for one of them to slip. And somewhere underneath the treaty, a secret is buried that could burn both packs to the ground, a secret that says the war between Ashwood and Draven was never an accident at all.As Sera uncovers who she really is, and Kane fights the father who raised him to rule without a heart, they will have to decide whether the bond between them is a cure for their packs or the curse that finally destroys them both.Some mates are chosen. Theirs was cursed. And they are about to find out why.

Rhen Thornwolf has one rule burned into her bones: Omegas do not look Alphas in the eye. Not ever. Her pack bled for that rule a hundred years ago, when a Thornwolf woman loved an Ashveil heir and cursed both bloodlines when it ended in blood under a red moon. Now the curse is legend, the packs are enemies turned uneasy allies, and Rhen is nobody. A kennel girl. A name nobody bothers to learn.Kieran Ashveil is the Alpha heir everybody bothers to learn. Tomorrow he will stand before both packs and accept a mating bond with Elara Duskmoor, sealing a treaty that keeps the hunters off Ashveil land for another generation. He does not want her. He wants the girl who pulled a wounded pup out of a hunter's trap with her bare hands and did not run when he found her covered in blood and told her to.One scent-drenched night before his engagement is announced, Kieran and Rhen collide, and the mate pull neither of them asked for slams into place like a door locking behind them. It should be impossible. Omegas cannot bond Alphas. The curse forbids it on pain of war. But the pull does not care about pain, or law, or the wedding already being planned in the Ashveil hall.As Rhen is drawn deeper into Kieran's world, she starts noticing things that do not add up. A locket she has worn since birth matches a crest carved into the oldest wall in Ashveil territory. Her mother never told her where she came from. And the curse everyone fears may not be a punishment at all. It may be a promise nobody has been brave enough to keep.With a wedding closing in, a rival who is not what she seems, and a hunter faction sharpening its silver, Rhen and Kieran have to decide what they are willing to burn down to choose each other. The moon is watching. It always has been. And it is done waiting.

For five years, I played the ghost in my own marriage. I pressed Julian Daniel’s pristine suits, matched his cufflinks, and sat by the window like a loyal dog, waiting for the "Ice King" CEO to look at me with something resembling desire. Instead, I received clinical kindness and a box containing a gold watch. Every anniversary, the exact same script. It was his way of checking a box - a tax he paid for a life he felt obligated to support. I sacrificed my career as a prima ballerina, shattering my legs to push him out of the path of a speeding car. He didn't marry a wife; he locked away a debt. The anniversary script burned to ash on our fifth year. Standing outside the bathroom door, I heard the raw, unbridled passion Julian had denied me for half a decade. He wasn't breathing my name into the steam. He was choking out the name of his high school heartbreak: Penelope. The betrayal didn't end in our bedroom. It followed me to a high-end restaurant where Julian hosted a private lunch. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, I didn't find a husband willing to defend his wife. I found his childhood friend dragging his foot in a cruel, mocking circle, mimicking my limp to a room erupting in roars of laughter. Penelope doubled over in delight. And Julian? He sat at the head of the table, watching my humiliation with a look of pure, unbothered boredom. “I owe her,” his voice cut through the fading laughter, calm and tired. “I am just trying to pay back a debt.”