Ann

Nikolai. Braxton. Derik. Three alphas who have pledged to protect the humans in their territory. All they ask in return is one night with the virgins of the villages, one night to take them under the blood moon and complete the ritual. This year is Lorelai’s turn. A winter born, cursed—or blessed—with powers rarely seen, Lorelai has been shunned by the other villagers her whole life. Once she’s taken to the wolves’ mansion, she takes matters into her own hands. After all, what if one night just isn’t enough?

"I'm an ordinary waiter, but I can see people's fate, including Shifters. Like all children, I was tested for magic when I was only a few days old. Since my specific bloodline is unknown and my magic is unidentifiable, I was marked with a delicate swirling pattern around my upper right arm. I do have magic, just as the tests showed, but it has never lined up with any known Magic species. I can't breathe fire like a dragon Shifter, or hex people who piss me off like Witches. I can't make potions like an Alchemist or seduce people like a Succubus. Now I don't mean to be unappreciative of the power I do have, it's interesting and all, but it just really doesn't pack much of a punch and most of the time it is just pretty much useless. My special magical skill is the ability to see threads of fate. Most of life is annoying enough for me, and what never occurred to me is that my mate is a rude, pompous nuisance. He's an Alpha and my friend's twin brother. --------------------------------------- “What are you doing? This is my home, you can't just let yourself in!” I try and keep my voice firm but when he turns and fixes me with his golden eyes I shrink back. The look he gives me is imperious and I automatically drop my eyes to the floor as is my habit. Then I force myself to look back up again. He doesn't notice me looking up because he's already looked away from me. He's being rude, I refuse to show that he's scaring me, even though he most definitely is. He glances around and after realising that the only place to sit is the little table with its two chairs he points to it. “Sit.” he orders. I glare at him. Who is he to order me around like this? How can someone this obnoxious possibly be my soul mate? Maybe I'm still asleep. I pinch my arm and my eyes water a little from the sting of pain."