Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
I never believed in fate until a seven-foot T-rex shifter pinned me against a cave wall and growled "mine" like the word was carved into his soul just for me.
I'm Chloe Piper. Twenty-eight. Flat broke. Long dark hair and a soft waist. I was mapping a remote fossil exposure in the Montana badlands, wearing very short cut-offs and a thin, low-cut white tank already clinging from the heat—when the ground split open under my boots.
It swallowed me whole and spat me out in Dino Valley: thick, humid air you can taste, waterfalls glowing like molten starlight, and predators whose eyes promise ruin in the sweetest way.
Rex found me first.
Seven feet of bronzed muscle and old scars. Scales already rising along his jaw and throat. Amber eyes that burned with a century of hunger.
In full shifted form he's thirty feet of pure apex: jaws strong enough to crush stone, tail that could level forests. Right now he's between forms—seven feet of muscle with the first ridges of scales rising across his shoulders and claws already flexing as he presses me into the rough stone, heat rolling off him in waves that make the air between us feel thicker. His palm is so wide it spans most of my lower back. The weight of it alone pins me.
"You shouldn't be here," he rumbled. The words vibrated straight through my sternum and settled low. My pulse jumped. My thighs pressed together on instinct.
I should have been terrified.
I was drenched instead.
That was three nights ago.
Three nights of pure, torturous teasing.
Night One
He carried me through the jungle like I weighed nothing, one arm banded around my thighs, the other braced against my back so my breasts pressed against his bare chest with every step. The thin white tank was already damp and half-stuck to my skin. His hand slid lower and gripped my ass—soft and full enough that his massive palm nearly covered it—claws pricking just enough to make me gasp.
Every time I squirmed, the hard length trapped in his leather pants rubbed against my ass and he growled low in warning, claws flexing against my skin but never breaking it. The points dragged just hard enough to leave faint red lines. He could have opened me. He chose not to. That choice made my pulse hammer harder than the threat itself.