DEACON

I’ve spent my life preparing to be alpha and uphold our pack’s traditions. Now I’m not sure how many of those traditions I believe in.

Every day I protect the illusion my father’s not sick and dying. Packs killing their alpha when they’re too weak to lead - that’s harder to swallow when it’s a choice you’re facing instead of a lesson you’re taught.

What kind of man would I be if I could turn on my own father like that?

But what kind of alpha can I be if I don’t?

Then there’s the omega pits. I never thought twice about the gladiator matches between packs’ weakest runts. Omegas who can’t survive the fights aren’t fit to bear our children.

So why do I step in to save Logan, a stranger whose own pack doesn’t even want him, when he can’t last two minutes in the pits on his own?

Is it my pathetic attempt to save anyone at all? A rebellion against traditions I now resent? Or something greater, the way his eyes find me through the crowd, how every time his lips part I hope it’s to call out my name?

And when he challenges my every belief with a ferocity fiercer than any he showed in the pits, I wonder:

If he’s a threat to everything I’m defending…am I defending the right things?

LOGAN

It’s never been a goal of mine to die young, its just always been a distinct possibility. Fun little side effect of being your pack’s weakest omega.

Its just the way the world is though, so I never spent much time railing against it.

So no one’s more shocked than me that I fight so hard against the inevitable when its my turn in the pits. Though I’m definitely not the only one shocked when Deacon Wythe steps in to save me.

It makes no sense. Why me? Why him? Why does he tolerate my petty sniping? Why can’t I stop trying to piss him off when all I want to do is kiss him?

But once I get that second chance, I hang onto it tooth and claw. Even challenging my own protector if that’s what it takes to stay alive. And when that leads to one night of confused passion and a child growing inside me?

If people were surprised how hard I fought to save myself, wait til they see what I’ll do to protect my new family.

This 50,000 word novel of werewolves, death matches and mpreg (oh my!) comes with a HEA and an ages eighteen and up label!