The pale, gray light of 5:00 AM bled through the tiny crack in the velvet drapes, cutting across the tangled ruins of the sheets like a cold blade.
Avery opened her eyes to the heavy, suffocating weight of a True Alpha's den. She didn't move. Her body was completely pinned to the mattress by the massive, heavy length of Jake’s arm thrown over her waist, his thick, scarred fingers sub-consciously gripping her hip even in the deepest depths of his sleep. The scent of him—dark cedar, burnt ozone, and the fierce, concentrated heat of his sweat—was thoroughly woven into her skin, clogging her senses until her inner wolf let out a soft, matted purr of absolute, biological contentment.
For the beast, the war was over. She had been claimed, marked, and saturated by her fated match.
But for Aver
