Isla Mackenzie runs a wildlife rescue on the edge of Nightfall Cove after leaving Seattle and the burnout of corporate life behind, and she is not looking for company.
For two years, Thomas Brooks, a seven-foot minotaur and the medic for his motorcycle club, has been the exception, arriving at her gate with injured animals and very few words.
Women usually flinch from his broken horn and rough-soft voice, but Isla never does, offering coffee and asking after the owl he brought last month while he keeps a love he has carried since the first spring thaw to himself.
When poachers force her to her knees in the mud and put a bullet in her shoulder, the quiet club medic finally stops holding his tongue.
He carries her home, lays her in his bed, and tells her that two years of friendship, care, and mutual longing are no longer something he will pretend away.
