I was sent to destroy him. Instead, I got marked by a growling, shirtless warlord who doesn’t understand the phrase “cease and desist.”
Malek Thorne walks like a king, talks like he invented sin, and claims I’m his fated mate. Which is hilarious, because I’m a federal prosecutor. I don’t do fate. I do indictments.
But then I stumble into a hidden war between shifter empires and burned-out covens, and suddenly the evidence isn’t just classified — it’s supernatural. And so is my blood.
Now he’s dragging me across Europe like I’m his emotional support human, whispering about prophecies, protecting me like I break, and growling every time someone so much as breathes near me.
Which would be annoying… if it didn’t make my thighs clench. He’s dangerous, unhinged, and possessive enough to burn down cities. And I think I’m in love with him.
I tried to take him to court. He took me to bed instead.
