A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Wolves Bloodlines

January 29, 2016
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A Wiatt and tatum novel

Wiatt D’arenberg a Manhattan Maen werewolf and Tatum Lee, a pregnant lycan are in love. They’re beginning to prepare for their future life together in the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack.But for Tatum Lee, she can only truly achieve the life her and Wiatt want together, if she lets go of the ghosts of her past life by finding out what Boston bloodlines run through her and her pup now.

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Lycan Life

April 7, 2015
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A new blog zine freebie for my readers.
Cheers, Bg.


So Much For The After Glow

October 16, 2014
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I look at the apartment keys in my hand and wonder if I should use them. Then I chide myself internally for being a chicken-shit. I was issued with an ultimatum of sorts, not that my pack mate said that to me, but I can read between the lines. I pause to realise how out of hand this has gotten.

Welcome to my crazy life.

Just when you think things are going well and quiet, shit stirs up again and it’s always more than it seems.

A wet dream equals ultimatums of fidelity and revelations of dark deeds done by lovers past and present. Not that I wasn’t faithful beforehand. Just his ego going bug-nuts over me coming in my sleep because it wasn’t him making me come. Alpha male, why am I surprised?

Try to do the right thing, figure it out, confront your past to move forward with your future and what do you end up with?

What I have now. I put the key in the door and turn it. Push open the front door and look inside the apartment. It’s silent in it’s own darkness, and that makes it seem sinister in it’s own way. When it should just be home to me.

I sigh and lean back against the door closing it, and locking it with one hand, without bothering to look at the task at hand.

“Yeah, lock yourself into the situation you have to front up to.” I mutter not liking what is ahead. “Chicken-shit.” I mutter to myself and push off the door and carry my overnight bag with me to the bedroom.

The door to the bedroom is open and I pause to lean against the door frame and look in on the room. Again, it’s in shades of black and night.

The shape of a male presence in the bed is unmistakable. Paris is lying down his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He notices me at last and looks at me. I can’t tell what his reaction is.

He is the king of masking his cool. I drop my bag beside me on the floor and start stripping out of my clothing. There isn’t much. A jacket, a top, bra, skirt, and socks. He watches me strip at the doorway. Doesn’t stop me.

“Paris, I’m going to tell you everything you want to hear. All you have to do, is ask me.” He stares at me hard and I know I’m pushing him to open up those emotions of his. A proud werewolf male who has no problem fighting, negotiating business and controlling an entire pack, but speaking about his feelings, well, that’s just a fail.

I watch the rise and fall of his chest but he remains silent. “Silence doesn’t work for you. It creates a lot of negative, misleading energy in your head and in my world.” I pick up all my clothing and grab the bag off the floor and carry it all over to the bed and drop all my clothing that I wore away and back onto the bed beside him.

“I haven’t showered, all weekend. Just deodorant.” I say tossing the bag away again and crawling into the bed. “So if you don’t believe me when I say I didn’t fuck him, go ahead and see what you get on my clothing. But it won’t be much more interesting than my scent.”

All he has to do, is scent me, if he dares.

Paris’s arms drop from behind his head and he moves towards me quickly. Reaching for me. “I love that scent.” He mutters heatedly.”I was so angry and stupid.” He pauses but then continues to grab me and pull me down onto him. I get out before as his face looms before mine.

Our lips meeting and we become engulfed in one another again. Paris’s kiss is deeply desperate for my mouth. Like he wants to cover every last inch of my mouth with is tongue. Like it’s a competition to kiss away the blues.

It’s wonderful now I’m in his embrace and we’re together. I forget that There is a world outside of this, as he cups my face and I creep my body further up his. We’ve missed days of this intensity, as we become all hands and mouth on one another.

“I’m yours.” I gasp between breaths as he leaves me breathless, working his mouth down my throat towards my breasts. I can’t believe I had to go three days without this.

“No more secrets.” I state softly as his tongue flicks out at my nipple. “That includes yours.” I say as his lips suck in my nipple and we push the covers back so I can straddle his lap. Paris stops and looks up at me.

“Yeah, you.” I repeat. “You’re concience, surfaced in Brooklyn this weekend, in the form of a certain Lycan, we both know. ”

Paris is in thought as he hears my words. “So much for the after glow.” He mutters.

“We’re not back there, not anymore.” I say cupping my breasts for him. His teeth graze at my nipples and he lifts my hips up, so I can feel him press against me. Paris slides into me slowly.

It’s like we control time when we make love. The focus on one another’s reactions is what we look for, what we want. Paris opens his mouth as he moans and I can see his teeth are sharpening.

“That’s the trick to this thing, remembering who we are, with one another.”


Wolves At The Door

October 14, 2014
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Wolves at the Door_cover 4

The werewolf across the hall from Hooper Parish’s place is hot. So damn hot that Hooper can’t help but pay attention to him so badly that all he wants to do is submit to the Alpha male, Thane Cavello.

But Hooper has issues. One; he hates werewolves, two; he hates werewolf packs, three; he hates lycans and four; he hates himself because he is a lycan. Made by a werewolf after an attack, seventeen years ago. Can he learn to love himself enough to be loved in return? Do you let the wolf that you are define you or the one you could be?

Falling for Thane was always going to be a challenge and a complicating one at that for Hooper to work out.

Add families from both sides of each male to the mix, and secrets are going to get exposed, and love will challenge loyalty because of it. Who do these wolves trust, when it can’t be their own kind and their hearts know no better?

Leaving Hooper with another issue to add to his list; like what does he want out of his lycan life, a pack mate, love, or family?


Manhattan Wolf

September 27, 2014
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I feel the shaking again and I clench my fingers into the palms of my hands tightly, pressing them into me. Hoping to bleed.

I need to feel something very real right now, so I don’t let anger consume or cloud what I’m trying to figure out here, how and why Booker Parish and I are like….this.

I have to figure it out, because it’s about to jeopardise the best relationship I’ve ever been in and I don’t fucking want that!
Being a werewolf in this world, is hard enough, thank you.

Being a werewolf female trapped between two wolves in her life, is a complication I do not need to add to my life in general. Been there before, done that. Really not looking to do it again.

“I knew Paris, around the same time I met you, actually, a little time after, about six weeks after the attack.” Booker finally gets out and I find myself letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Six weeks after the attack, seems….specific? Signficant?

“But how? You’d already joined the Breukelen by then, right?” I ask trying to figure out what he’s getting at here. Male wolves and they’re fucking loop de loops on talking.

He lifts his head and brushes brown hair out of his eyes. “Paris uh, tracked me down through the Breukelen. He’d been trying to sort things out with his pack leader.”

I frown. “I’m not following.”

“He was trying to bring me and my brother some sort of closure on the attack.”

“But he’d only do that if either, he was responsible for your lycanthropy, or if he knew who was.” I mutter slowly.
“Right.”

I don’t know how much more of this kind of talk my body can take. I feel like I’m wound tight here and need to hit things. Violently hit them. With a side of yelling and screaming thrown in.

“What are you saying Booker?” I mutter softly.

“I know who attacked me and my brother.”
We hold each other’s gaze. This is a new development.

“You always told me you couldn’t remember the attack or anything about it.” I say back at him.

“And I couldn’t. I still can’t really. It’s a block to me, I’ve only ever managed to recall the night, the surroundings, some blurred colour. Then nothing. I mean, there’s no detail in that.” Booker says opening up to me.

“My brother’s the same, he couldn’t recall it beyond the feeling of being ripped into and having his body savaged with pain, and the feeling of rain on his skin.”

I cross my arms over my chest and will him to go on. If he says Paris is responsible for his attack, I’ll go him. So fucking hard, he really won’t know what hit him.

“Paris figured out it was some Manhattan Maen werewolves, he found out because my brother and I weren’t the only ones attacked that night. Paris and Addison were patrolling and they came across another victim, Damon.”

Damon, I know a Damon.
Damon the lycan.

He lives in a garage in Manhattan Maen territory, he’s a nervous wreck. A hermit. Paris has always said he was under his protection, but never explained why.

“Whoa.” I press back against the bench for something solid to feel.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
Booker shrugs those large shoulders of him and it looks effortlessly casual. “I don’t know, why revisit it?”

“Because it was, is, important to you.” I state looking at him and see something flitted across his face. “Because I’ve been there for you with this, I was there for you when this started!” I am practically yelling.

Booker is no match for masking his emotions with me as Paris is.

“Was. Past tense.” He says and leaves the words hanging for me to taking in.

“Book, what do you mean, by that little statement.”

“Cadey, I’ve moved on from it, you should too.”

Okay, you see, if he’d called me by my pack nickname of Bg or even his name for me, Baby Girl, I’d have let that comment slide. But he used my real name. There are only a few times when people ever, use my real name. And they’re all genuinely serious reasons for using it.

Booker’s a serious kind of guy, not a light hearted personality. Another sort of trait he shares with Paris.

“Why, would I move on from something that is important to you Booker? I didn’t back down with my father, and I won’t back down now. I’m a werewolf, we don’t back down. We fight. Tell me, everything Booker Parish or so help me god, we’re done here, for good, damn the fucking consequences!”

It’s horribly manipulative to pull that line on him, but it works. Booker doesn’t want to be apart from me. Not forever.

“We uh, dealt with the culprits.” Booker says in a low voice, unlike him at all. “Eventually.”

My eyebrows arch up in horror and surprise. “Paris helped me.”

“Oh.”
He nods his head and we fall into strained silence.

Continued in Torrid Little Life


The L Word, and I don’t mean Lycan

September 25, 2014
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This kiss is a reminder of everything I once felt for this Lycan. Everything that got crushed when he rejected me. This thought is enough to snap me out of the kiss and I pull back and push back at Booker’s shoulder’s.

Booker whines in his throat as we part and rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as we both remember we can breathe air, without the other one.

“Please,” I hear him mutter softly, ever so softly. My eyes look up at him. “Don’t do this.” He says sadly.

It’s like he knows exactly why I’ve called him hear. As if saying Paris knows, isn’t enough.

“We got to reign this thing in Book. Get a hold of it for good.” I say back at him in a low voice.

Booker opens his eyes and looks down at me. “Let me guess, he doesn’t want me anywhere near you, I’m not allowed on your protective detail.”

“He hasn’t said so.” I reply. “But this isn’t about Paris, Booker, it’s about me, and you.”

Booker pulls back and drops his hand off the back of my neck. But he retains contact with my hand and wrist.

“How’d he find out anyway. I’ve never told anyone. Not even my brother, although, I think he might’ve suspected something once.”

I wonder if Booker ever forgot to wash my scent off him after we were together. Even a lycan without much scent tracking skills could pick up on another wolve’s scent over their mate.

“It doesn’t matter how. Booker I’m doing this. Besides, you have a mate, you have a girlfriend.”

“A non.” He states at me.

“You choose her Booker and isn’t it, like the longest relationship you’ve been in with her? You should focus all this thing you have for me, on her. Think of her instead.”

Booker lips his lips. “That might be a bit difficult.” He admits.

“How so?”

Please don’t tell me they broke up. Please, please, please.

“She looks like you.” He says back at me and my eyes widen in surprise. I never knew that. But I’ve never met her. Never had a chance or a need to.

“What!”

Booker puts up a hand in defense. “No like, you exactly. I mean, she has you’re traits. Black hair, eyes, same height.”

I groan and bury my face in my hands. He picked a girlfriend who reminded him of me. She’s probably not even aware of that little secret fact.

“Booker,” I mutter through my hands. I drop my hands and look back up at him “You didn’t want me, so I walked away and you let me! You don’t get a do-over.” My anger is rising. Crap.

He looks at me tenderly. “I’ll do anything you want, just tell me I’m not being exiled from you.”

My heart races. Booker and I, this odd connection of lycan and werewolf, of love in a past time, it’s always had it’s own precipice.

It’s always, despite not working out kept us close.
Booker’s always had this thing about being separated from me, for too long a time. I kind of noticed it not long after we stopped dating.

“I wish you could be with me.” He admits for the first time, since we fell apart. Years ago.

So we developed this habit. Nobody would think much of it, because we worked it into our lives, and around our social groups. Every few weeks, he or I would find a reason, or take advantage of pack work to end up being grouped together. It wasn’t even about the physical touching. It was just about being around one another.

A familiarity to lessen the heartache I guess.

“I missed my chance, I get that.” Booker says frowning. “I mean, I get that, but my wolf self, won’t let you go.”

“I’m not you’re wolf Booker. You need to tell that wolf that, control it, not let it control you.” I sate back at him and pull my hand out of his. He straightens up and his body stiffens.

His scent is stronger when he’s distressed. Shit.

“I missed my chance when you broke up with Conall, I don’t even know how. I mean one minute you were dating him and then the next I know, you’re the talk of Brooklyn with all this chatter around you and Paris.” His brown eyes hold mine in their sorrowful gaze. “Baby Girl I would’ve, but you weren’t there. I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you and I no matter how I try, I can’t shake that.”

Oh shit.

He dropped the L-word on me.

He’s never actually voiced that with me before. But I’ve always felt it.

Continued in We The Wolves.


We The Wolves

September 24, 2014
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My connection to Booker is unique one. It wasn’t me that turned him into a lycan.

I sigh and put a hand to my forehead, hoping to prevent a headache. I think I get our connection now. Can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before now.

I’ve always been empathic. Never really got a hold of it though, never understood it until something happened recently to have it pointed out to me.

My new found abilities, tend to work fast when I’m in a highly emotional state. So it’s no wonder I’ve felt this connection to Booker, deeper than most people would.

We met when I was fifteen. And I was fighting with my father, the pack leader of the Breukelen werewolf pack. He and I didn’t see eye to eye about lycans, at all.

Fifteen, was an important year to me.

I’d been attacked the year before when I was fourteen by some lycans. I was lucky to be alive. My fiftieth year, was supposed to represent survival, moving on, overcoming what had been done to me the year before.

Somehow, I don’t really know how, I think Booker picked up my empathic ability, something about it, that I can’t put my finger on. And this thing, that drives us together and apart and near again, this feeling, it’s something other than love, probably obsession, which is never a good feeling for a werewolf to develop.

I mean, we didn’t get together till years past that. But it didn’t matter, we always sought each other out in settings.

One way or another that was what our wolf selves pushed us to do, and both of us were new to our wolf ways, so we did what we thought we were meant to do.

I think we’re somehow bound to each other. As in he bonded himself to me and me to him and I don’t know how. I’m not sure how to undo what has been done. The dream, it was my warning sign, my reminder by my wolve’s bodies alarm clock that I had to get around Booker again.

After all, it’s been almost a month since I saw him last. And I’ve never dreamed of him before while I’ve been with Paris. I’ve never had that happen to me.

“Booker,” I start.

I have to make this clean, I have to be strong and do this now or we’ll never grasp it.

It’ll get worse as time goes on, because time glorifies memories, because we want meaning and purpose in our lives. We don’t want to think of how much we’ve fucked up. I’m in a real relationship now, the first one out of the three wolf boyfriends I’ve had.

And If I look back at me and Booker and our past history, I can accept and move on from my first boyfriend being not so much of a boyfriend too me, as a confused newly minted lycan who had to figure out again, how to be a wolf in a human body, with a woman.

“I know you love him.” Booker cuts me off. “I know and I’m not asking you to give that up, I’m just.” He lets out a heavy breath and seems to mull over a thought. “I want you too.”

I nod my head. “I know.”

I cross my ankles together and think about this.I got home, called Booker Parish and he came running to me.I have a weekend to resolve this. Paris gave me the entire weekend.

We don’t have to do this now.

We don’t have to talk anymore if we don’t want to.

When have wolves ever been known for their talking skills?

Looking at Booker I see how easy the comparison is to make between the “type” of wolf I like. Why it was so easy for Paris to make the connection between me and Booker having had a past affair together.

“I did the same thing you did, didn’t I? I choose a packmate that looks similar to you.” I state out loud, surprised by my own ignorance.

The human half of me sure knows how to suppress stuff.
Booker walks back over to me and unhooks my ankles with his hands, standing between my legs again.

“What does the mean for us?”

Continued in…This Lycan and I


Male Wolves

August 25, 2014
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Paris looks ready to explode as he hears my words.

“I’ll tell you about Booker and me.” He edges forward on that seat, as if ready to rush me, his fingers gripping it tightly so he has something to break when his grip gets too tight to take without shape shifting.

“Booker and I dated.” I hold his gaze. “A long time ago, before I met you.”
He opens his mouth and stops grinding his teeth. “How come I’ve never heard this before now?”

Male wolves, they have a fucking ego on them, let me tell you. That’s why he’s never heard this before. Because Paris is the type of male to be jealous of anyone who was with me before him his feelings for me are so deep, that the logic of Booker being a part of my past, doesn’t even enter into his reasoning.

Male wolves can get seriously possessive. My Ex, Conall Wakely was possessive of me, but he went about it in a rather subtlety manipulative way, so it took me awhile to see what he was doing. Even though other’s could see it, eventually I saw through it.

Male wolves and their pack mates. It’s an intensity you need to be ready for.

“Because nobody knew we dated. We were a secret and kept it that way. Even now, you’re the only one outside of either Booker or myself who knows this.” I explain.

I see him try and digest this information as he looks away from me briefly, but it’s not a reprieve from the situation at hand.
“We all have pasts Bg, but I don’t have wet dreams about the women I’ve slept with in the past.”

And here comes the second wave of attack.

“How old where you when you two got together? I always thought, you dated Conall before me.”

“Booker came before Conall.” His eyes narrow on me sharply as he frowns deeply.

Oh fucking wrong choice of words Bg!

“He’s the one isn’t he?”

“What?” I asked missing something in our conversation that clearly hasn’t been said but is playing out loud and clear in Paris’s mind.

“It makes sense now. You remember I once asked you about who you’re first lover was? Who you gave your virginity too?”

Oh Christ on a crunch. Here we go.

“I thought it had to be Conall, but it was Booker right? He was your first love.”

Now it’s my turn to look away. Which just confirms everything he’s said and we both know it.

“You’re still in love with him, some part of you is still in love with him, that’s why you came in your sleep, calling his name not mine.”

My heart is beating like crazy because this is the weirdest confrontation I’ve ever had and I don’t know how I feel about denying that statement. I’m not sure if I would be lying to myself or to Paris.

“Look at me!” Paris roars across the room making me flinch.

Anger is evident in every part of him and I know better than to look away from the werewolf who is spoiling for a fight with me. If I do, he’ll come for charge at me.

“It’s not like that.” I say softly. But I’m not actually sure if it is or it’s not. “I’m not involved with Booker, I’m with you. I love you.” I try to reach him, but Paris’s anger and jealousy are intense as the man himself.

“I don’t believe you.” Paris says dropping his voice.

“What?”

He doesn’t believe I love him? What the hell, where did this come from? Because of an unconscious action in a dream? Some mumbled words?

I feel my legs begin to shake and my hands twitch. My skin is getting hot. Pain shoots across my abdomen. Oh shit, I’m so upset it’s bringing on a shape shift.

My fingers flex and stretch, waiting for their extension and nails to break and push out talons for claws.

Paris stands up and looms on the opposite side of the room taking up a lot of space. “I can’t handle this. This idea that you’re in love with him.”

Sweat beads across my forehead and feel the flutter of my eyelids close down heavily before I blink back up at him, through my werewolf eyes.

He stares back at them. He has to know how I am feeling right now. Because heightened emoitions bring on my partial shape shifting abilities with ease.

Sometimes I’m not even aware of it happening to me, it’s that damn smooth, when I’m that wound up and lost in feeling.

“Okay, you wanna fight? You got a fight.” I growl at him as my werewolf teeth push through my gums and blood drips into my mouth.

Continued in…. Teeth, Claws and a Werewolf Heart


Dark Heart

August 18, 2014
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My heart beat thuds in my chest like it is trying to expand it so I can breathe. I only see anger in those stormy blue eyes before me and it’s all he has for me. Where has the loving Paris I know gone?

He gets dark sometimes, but it isn’t usually around or because of me. I’ve seen it once before. Paris can let the werewolf in him seriously take a hold. To the point that he almost gets buried inside, like some kind of internal shape shift is happening and the Alpha werewolf starts to control him. It’s like his heart get’s replaced by the darkest parts of the beast.

But this darkness, it’s brought on by the werewolf trauma of fighting through life. Not over an erotic dream that I had while sleeping next to him.
This is, scary, this is Paris jealous. Really, jealous because of me.

“What?” The word whimpers out of my mouth because I’m wounded. I don’t understand what is going on here. How it could go on here.

“You had a wet dream about Booker Parish.” Paris goes on steadily. “And I want to know why. It wasn’t a regular dream about anyone else in your life, it was very clear to me, it was a sex dream with Booker. So when did you start sleeping with him?”

My whole body is trembling. I push up in the bed to a sitting position now, to face him properly. But it’s not fear that is making my arms shake and my chest pound. It’s anger.

“I’m not sleeping with Booker Parish!” The bed cover slips down me and Paris’s eyes divert briefly to my naked breasts. He looks away, as if pained.

“Cover up.” He instructs.

“No.” I growl back at him and his head snaps back around to me. “You sit there, accusing me of sleeping with your and my friend,”

“Fellow pack mate to you,” Paris stings me with.

“Right, right. We come from the same pack so we must be sleeping together!” I am truly annoyed at him now. “Grow up Paris.” I pull back the covers and slide out of the bed, looking for clothing.

Fuck him! He wants to attack me when I’m vulnerable to suggestion, just waking up, when I’m naked. Well I know how to play this fucking game of punch-up! I pull on clothes quickly. A pair of leggings and a long sleeved top. Armour. Cover me from him, so his gaze can’t affect my being.

“So?” He asks again and I turn on him.

“Are you fucking serious?” I yell in disbelief. “You honestly think I’m sleeping with Booker Parish because I said his name while I was asleep?”

“You didn’t just say his name Bg, you repeated it, over and over again and then I watched as you shuddered and came, touching yourself. While I was spooned up against you. And I know you and Booker are, friends as well as pack mates.”

Oh my fucking god. “I’m going to loose it.” I mutter to myself. “You’re jealous of a fucking dream Paris, a dream!”

“A dream that made you come.” Paris states back at me. “If you were horny, you would’ve just woke me up and rode me.”

I roll my eyes and slam my hands down onto my hips. This is ridiculous beyond belief!

“There’s no fucking logic in dreams Paris, they’re just shit that comes into your head!” I continue to yell at him.

“Look I know you and Booker are friends as well as pack mates,” I growl at him again, beginning to bear my teeth. “And whilst you don’t have a lot of contact with him here, when you’re in Manhattan Maen territory, you can’t say that’s not the case when you’re in Brooklyn. He’s one of your sister’s posse and one of the first called on each time your protective detail is given.”

My eyes widen till I think my eyebrows are going to fly off my face.

“You think, I fuck around with Booker when I have the chance, when I’m over in Brooklyn and you’re not there with me?”

He’s silent again. Dark blue eyes never leave me and I begin to pace around the side of the bed, furthest from him.

“Okay, you want to know about Booker and me.”
I still and look out at him, letting out a deep breath to calm myself.

“I’ll tell you about Booker and me.”

Continued in…. Male Wolves


Wolves Love

April 11, 2014
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Wolves Love

Werewolves and lycans aren’t known for getting along.

You could argue that hostility and hatred of the lycans can’t be faulted. Given, to be a lycan, means as a human you were attacked by a werewolf and survived, only to turn into one of them.

Tatum Lee only knows this existence all too well as a new lycan. It’s only been a few months since she turned and has found herself in a relationship, with of all creatures, a werewolf, Wiatt D’arenberg. But loving Wiatt means, Tatum has to live by the rules of Wiatt’s pack , and it means there’s not much living in it when the Bronx lycan community find out exactly who Tatum is.

She’s either one of them, or she’s not welcome, just like werewolves in the Bronx aren’t welcome. Tatum’s relationship with Wiatt becomes strained as she battles to find her place in her new wolf life, with Wiatt and amongst all the wolves of New York City.

Wiatt finds his thinking pushed as he must confront the reality of the werewolf culture and his own personal happiness with a lycan for his lover. Can Wiatt and Tatum find a way to make a relationship between two very different types of wolves work? Or will they simply be torn apart, by each other and every other wolf that wants to hurt them?

Available at www.smashwords.com in July


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