I’m supposed to be filming melting glaciers. Not getting rescued by a seven-foot lumberbeast who growls when I breathe too loud.
Cassian is part man, part myth, and 100% not interested in being discovered.
Too bad my drone caught him shifting mid-snowstorm—and now the footage is worth enough to pay off my student loans, my therapist, and maybe a cabin in Aspen.
Problem is, the second I hit record, the hunters start closing in. He says I should run. Instead, I stay.
Because under that silent glacial glare and those scarred forearms is a man who treats warmth like a luxury… and touches me like he’s starving. I didn’t come here looking for a mate.
But the bear inside him just decided I’m his. And when Syndicate soldiers break down the door, he doesn’t shift. He fights for me as a man. Which is so much hotter than claws.
