THE SILVERTHORN PACK (A Werewolf Romance)

uckles blanching white as her rental car fishtailed again on the winding mountain road. The GPS had stopped

r airbag had deployed. Blood from a cut on her forehead trickled down her temple. She tried the door. Stuck. Something moved in the trees. Eden froze. A shape watched her from the woods-its outline barely visible through the mist and broken windshield. Tall. Lean. Eyes that glowed gold in the dark like coals just before the fire takes hold. The forest held its breath. So did she. The thing stepped closer. Slowly. As if it had all the time in the world. Rain steamed off its broad shoulders. Its eyes never left hers. Then it was gone. She wasn't sure if it had vanished or if her mind had blanked in terror. When she came to again, she was lying on a cot in a room that smelled of cedar, moss, and something coppery beneath it all. It wasn't a hospital. The ceiling above her was wooden, beams aged and warped by time. A fire crackled in the hearth nearby. Her jacket and boots were gone. Her jeans torn. Her ankle wrapped in a tight bandage. She sat up too fast and nearly blacked out from the pain in her ribs. "You should rest." The voice startled her. A man sat in the corner. Motionless. Like he'd been waiting for her to wake. Shadows clung to him even with the firelight. His hair was black, damp from the rain, and a jagged scar slashed from his cheekbone to his jaw. His arms were crossed, thick with lean muscle, and his eyes-those same eyes-burned with something ancient. "You were in the road," he said. "You-" Her throat was

ilverthorn's wolves will stir again if he stays."What are you?" she whispered.Kade's jaw clenched. His eyes darkened-n

, the world was black and breathing. The rain had slowed, but the mist still clung to the trees like something sentient. A figure-Kade-walked into the woods without a coat. Just a dark shirt, jeans, and something heavy on his shoulders. Burden. Grief. Rage. Maybe all thre

hat looked like an old general store. The woman saw her and frowned. "You shouldn't be out," she said. "Do you know Vanessa Vale?" Eden asked. The woman's face changed. Not in expression-but in tension, in the way a deer might freeze before a gunshot. "You're her niece," she said flatly. "Yes." The woman stepped aside. "Come in. Quickly. "The inside of the store was warmer, crowded with old goods an

ith the weeping tree. Tell no one what you're looking for." "Why me?" Eden asked. The woman didn't speak for a long time. Then, quietly: "Be