Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
Three sets of claws found me before I finished screaming.
I'm Mia Reyes. Twenty-seven. Wildlife photographer. Short dark curls plastered to my neck with sweat, the camera strap still cutting a line into my shoulder. I was tracking a rare resplendent quetzal call through thick Costa Rican growth when the ground opened under my boots and dropped me into air so humid I could taste it, vines glowing faint at the edges like something alive.
Hiking shorts and a thin tank were all that made it through the fall. The tank was already damp and stuck to my skin when the three of them circled me in the half-light.
Kael leads. Lean muscle cut with old scars across his ribs and one thigh, amber eyes that don't blink. Ryn moves like the air itself—midnight-blue feathers shading the lengths of his forearms, a sharp smirk even when his claws are out. Toren is broader, quieter, emerald markings that shift and ripple across his shoulders and hips whenever his breathing changes. In full shift they become blurs of sickle claw and oil-slick feather, fast enough to turn the jungle into a trap.
Right now they are half-shifted in the heart of their nest. Claws extended. Tails lashing low against the stone. Kael's hand spans my hip, the tips of his claws pricking through the torn shorts just hard enough to sting. Heat pours off all three of them in waves that make the air feel thicker.
"Pack shares," Kael said. His voice was low, a soft click riding the edge of the words. "No fighting over what is ours."
Ryn's mouth brushed the sweat at the side of my neck. Feathers tickled my collarbone. "We fight over who makes her break first."
Toren's claws flexed once against the inside of my thigh. He didn't speak. The pressure alone made my pulse jump and my thighs press together on instinct.
Day One – Cornered
They herded me through the glowing vines until my back hit warm stone. Kael caught both my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand, grip careful and absolute. Ryn stepped in close and dragged his tongue up the hollow of my throat, slow, feathers brushing the insides of my arms. Toren stayed lower. His claws traced the frayed waistband of my shorts, dipped just under the fabric, and stopped.
They pushed the tank up to my collarbones. Cool air hit sweat-slick skin. Kael's thumb pressed against the rapid pulse in my wrist. Ryn's teeth grazed the line of my jaw. Toren's claws pricked higher on my inner thigh and I felt myself get wet, slick gathering against the torn edge of the shorts. They watched it happen. Then they stopped.