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Moira Lawrie

  • Unlocked Chapters: 875
  • Novel Reviews: 1

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Updated
  • 👁 32.5K
  • 8.8

"What's that smell?" My wolf, Storm's, voice is sudden and loud, making my head throb. As soon as he speaks, the most incredible scent I’ve ever known hits my nose, sending my senses into overdrive. It's a blend of strawberries and cinnamon, instantly drawing me forward, my feet moving of their own accord. As I weave through the crowd, the smell intensifies, and suddenly, everything happens so fast that my head spins. A scent like that can only mean one thing... I’ve found my mate. The realization crashes over me just as she steps out of the packhouse, leaving me breathless. "F*ck, no!" Alpha Nicholas is 28, mateless, and has no intention of changing that. This year, it’s his turn to host the annual Blue Moon Ball, and the last thing his wolf expects is to find his mate. What shocks him even more is discovering that his mate is 10 years younger than him—and he can’t deny the way his body reacts to her. While he tries to resist the truth of their bond, his world is thrown into chaos when his guards capture two she-wolves running through his territory. Bonnie has spent her life being broken down and abused by the people closest to her, including her own twin sister. Together with her best friend, Lilly, they hatch a plan to escape during the biggest ball of the year, hosted by another pack. But when things don’t go as planned, both girls are left feeling lost and uncertain about their futures. Once they are brought to Alpha Nicholas, he finds himself once again facing his mate and discovers that she's hiding secrets that will make him want to kill more than one person. Can Nicholas stop fighting with his wolf and accept a mate much younger than him? Will Bonnie want him after already feeling the sting of his unofficial rejection? Can they both let go of the past and move forward together, or will fate have other plans, keeping them apart?

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Book cover
  • 👁 42K
  • 8.7

When I was a child, my grandma used to tell me stories. At the time, I never gave them much thought. Thinking they were just that… stories. Growing up, I soon realized that they weren’t lofty fantasies and fairy tales but memories of her past, memories of our ancestors before our world turned to sh*t. You see, what comes from legend, no matter how exaggerated the story becomes, there is always a sliver of truth. You just need to weed out the fiction from fact. My grandmother used to tell me stories of the Chosen One—the one who would save us all. When I was younger, I used to believe that what she said was true. Eventually, someone would be born, just as the Oracle predicted—someone who could save our souls and bind us back to our magic. Once I grew up and saw the world unfolding around me, I no longer believed in salvation. The chosen one seemed to be more of a prayer than reality. Some dream we wanted desperately to come true. Something in which we needed to find hope when there wasn’t any left. When our ancestors turned their backs on us, how were we expected to believe in this so-called salvation? Especially when all we witnessed was death and carnage ever since the great war. Nothing except pain and poverty. I used to believe the stories and used to pray for the mysterious chosen one that would rid our world of its evil. Now, though, I see it for what it really is, just a dream of hope. Some out of reach fairy-tale. A story to create hope. Hope is dangerous; it makes you believe things will get better. I stopped hanging on to hope when I witnessed firsthand that it caused nothing but heartache.

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Heroes

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