Chapter 1
Bianca's POV
Just past six, a wolf's howl tore across the river. The sound sliced thin through the shoddy walls of the human neighborhood where I lived, sharp and wild. Five years in Moonshadow Bay, I'd learned to hold my breath when the wolves called. When werewolves howl, humans keep quiet.
My phone buzzed under my pillow. An unknown number.
"Ms. Bianca Clark?"
My breath caught. "Yes."
"This is Human Resources at Rayne Group. Congratulations—you've passed the final interview. Your offer letter will land in your inbox this morning. Please report next Monday at nine a.m.—"
The rest of the words faded away. My fingers curled tight around the phone, nails digging into my palm, and tears welled up.
Rayne Group was founded by the Rayne family, formidable Alphas whose status is comparable to royalty in Moonshade Bay.
The group controls over half the bay's industry, pays extremely well.
But humans hold a lower status. The group rarely hires humans, and the acceptance rate for humans is under ten percent. I’d spent six months grinding myself raw for this chance.
Finally I passed.
I stared at the phone screen, heart hammering, and my first thought was Jason. He was my boyfriend, human, working at a tiny local firm.
We’d been deeply in love for two years, planning to marry and scrimping to save every penny. This job was supposed to bring our dream within reach.
I called him. He picked up on the second ring, the faint rumble of subway announcements humming in the background.
"Hey, baby."
"I passed. I got the Rayne job. I start next week." My voice shook, light and wobbly.
There was a short pause, then his warm laugh came through the line. "I knew it. I knew you could do it."
Joy bubbled up soft and bright inside me. "Can we celebrate tomorrow? It's our two-year anniversary."
"Bianca." His tone softened, apologetic. "The company's sending me out of town on a project. I leave tomorrow. Three months, maybe longer."
That warmth drained out of me all at once, cold creeping up my spine. Tomorrow. Our anniversary, the day I'd been dying to share this win with him. My throat swelled, heavy and tight. Three months felt endless. I wanted to beg him to stay.
But we were only two common humans. This project mattered for him. I bit back the lump in my throat and forced my voice steady. "I understand. I'll miss you. I'll wait."
"Let's meet tonight, for an early celebration. Moonshadow Hotel, human district, Room 801."
"Okay. I'll be there."
I set the phone down, my chest tangled with joy and quiet sorrow. Abandoned by my birth parents as a child, I’d grown terrified of intimacy with anyone of the opposite sex, shying away from close physical contact.
I'd made Jason wait two years. Tonight I had to break through my own fears, give this precious part of myself to him, and give us both a night we would remember.
That evening, I stumbled into the hotel lobby where we'd agreed to meet.
I'm a lightweight.I'd meant to have just one drink for courage. I had three. Maybe four.
Champagne was humming through my veins, and I had exactly one thought in my head—I couldn't believe I was actually going to sleep with my boyfriend tonight.
Downstairs, the annual Moonshadow Bay Full Moon Festival was in full swing.
The hall was packed, werewolf scent and human perfume tangling into one thick cloud.
The human receptionist was drowning in the holiday chaos, room keys scattered all over the desk. I gave her my name. She flipped through something, muttering under her breath, pulled a card from the pile, and without even looking up said, "Room 801, human district."
Poor girl—dark circles under her eyes. Maybe because the line behind me was getting impatient, she took me straight to the room. Once she'd dropped me off, she hurried back.
The room was pitch black. Curtains drawn tight—not even the full moon got through. A strong, strange scent filled the air and with the champagne still sloshing in my stomach, my head spun so badly. Squinting into the darkness, I could barely make out the shape of the bed. The furniture was luxurious—nicer than I'd expected. I thought: tonight must be my lucky night.
I pulled out my phone, texted Jason to tell him I'd arrived, then felt my way to the bed in the dark and lay down to wait. Champagne and that strange scent swirled together. I'd deliberately left the door unlocked, just a crack, so he could come straight in. As I waited, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
I must have dozed off, because hazily I felt the mattress dip under someone's weight. The room was still pitch black.
The room was pitch black, the only light a thin sliver from the door crack. His hand found me—urgent, demanding, sliding from my waist to the back of my neck, his palm scorching hot.
My body responded faster than my brain, heat shooting up my spine, and it startled me. Jason's hands were always cool, his whole demeanor gentle and unhurried. This person—this person's skin felt like it had just been pulled from a fire.
Too much to drink, I thought hazily. That's why I'm burning up.
He turned me over, his nose grazing the skin behind my ear. The cedar scent grew thicker, pressing against my chest. He was close to my ear, breathing hard, saying nothing. I wanted to tell him to be gentle, but when I opened my mouth all that came out was a sticky little moan.
When he pinned my wrists to the pillow on either side of my head, I flinched on instinct. A jumble of images flashed through my mind—all the things that had kept me from letting anyone close. But tonight was different. I forced myself to relax, pushed my arms further into his grip, and chanted silently, over and over: It's fine. It's fine.
His hand slid from my wrist, laced his fingers through mine, gripping hard, like he needed to confirm something. I felt a man's raw hunger press down on me, and a tremor of fear and want shot through my whole body. I squeezed my eyes shut, buried my face in the pillow, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
I open my eyes wide in the dark and catch one glimpse of him — the sheer size of him — before he drives into me and pain goes through me like a struck match, burning along walls nothing has ever touched. I bite down on my lip to keep the sound in and dig my nails into the broad, heaving expanse of his back, and he opens me without a shred of mercy.
His hips move with a brutal rhythm, and every deep thrust tears me a little further, and my body shakes between the pain and a strange scorching heat that has no business being there. The bed creaks under the force of him.
My breasts bounce with each slam of his hips and my nipples drag across his sweat-slick chest, and the wet sound of it fills the room, and the pain makes me hotter, makes me wetter, until I don't know which of the two I'm feeling anymore.
His rhythm quickens and the muscle under my hands goes hard as steel. One last shuddering thrust, and he comes — hot and thick, deep inside me.
I gasp, my body clenching around him, a fog rolling through my head, and he collapses onto me, heavy and drenched in sweat, one arm coming around my waist and staying there.
I lie panting in the dark of the hotel room with my heart still racing. The sheets are soft and luxurious against my bare skin. That arm is around my waist, possessive, warm — warmer than warm, actually. Almost scalding.
I smile into the dark and try to slow my heart. I did it. I finally crossed that line and gave myself over completely. It was more intense than I expected, almost animal, but maybe that's what passion is supposed to feel like.
"That was amazing, Jason," I manage, in spite of the ache.
The body beside me goes rigid.
He pulls away from me fast.
"Who the hell is Jason?" A low, unfamiliar voice, cold as a blade laid flat.
My blood turns to ice. That voice is not Jason's.
I scramble away, my heart slamming, groping blindly along the nightstand until my fingers find the switch, and hard white light floods the room.
Oh God.
Across the bed sat a man I'd never seen before-and easily the most gorgeousman I'd ever laid eyes on. Short brown hair. Amber eyes that look lit from within under the lamp. A body like something carved out of marble. His face sits somewhere between confusion and fury, and the sheer force of him —makes my hands shake. Some instinct older than thought tells me this man is not ordinary.
"Who are you?" I scream, clutching the sheet against my chest with both hands. "Where is Jason?"
