Claiming His Chance
A novel set in the Feral Breed World
After a long year of tragedy and battles, Cahill of the Southern Appalachia pack is hoping to spend a little time alone on his mountain. But with no mate to worry about, the safety of the pack falls on his shoulders, as does paying off the guards he’d hired to keep the mountain safe while he was away. Protecting the pack means heading off to participate in an underground fight club where shifters take to the ring for fame, fortune, and debt repayment. A ring some don’t make it out of alive.
To the owners and fighters at The Pack House, Trinity and Piers seem like any other mated couple. And that’s exactly what she needs them to think. Years of running from the truth has set Piers on a path headed right into the fight cage, and Trinity has followed, even though the violence and the noise are something out of her nightmares. But the two have plans, and a handful of fights is all that stands between them reaching their dreams and banishment…or death.
When Cahill sets his sights on Trinity, nothing can stand in the way of the fighter getting his fated mate. Not the heavy debt his pack must repay, not the other fighters out to show him who’s stronger and more skilled in the ring, not even the possibility that she may be mated to another. Once a fighter, always a fighter—and Cahill’s more determined than ever to throw a knockout punch for the chance of a real win with the woman of his dreams.
The World Tilted
The woman from the hallway stood at the edge of the ring, almost dwarfed by the half-naked man practically wrapped around her. Her deep blue gown sparkled under the low lights, making her shimmer in a way that seemed almost angelic. But the low-cut neckline and the way the fabric hugged her was pure sin. She was a rose in the middle of this pile of garbage, a flower growing through the crack in cement. And when she looked up at me, her brown eyes meeting mine for the first time, my entire world tilted.
My wolf snarled loud and harsh, wanting to move closer, to knock that fucker’s arm off our mate. And she was our mate. I knew it the second our eyes met, felt the connection to her. And by the way her painted lips fell open and her eyes went wide, she knew it, too.
I had taken one step in her direction when I sensed Beadan come closer. Images flashed in my mind—my mate with that man’s arm around her, the younger of my twin sisters laughing as she ran away from me that last night, a fierce witch standing up to the worst of our kind with a bravery I admired. And falling dead at her enemy’s feet anyway.
My response was natural, automatic…completely inhuman. My wolf saw Beadan as a threat to our mate, and that just wouldn’t do. I turned with a snarl, swinging my arm in an upward arc, the full weight of my body behind it. My fist connected with Beadan’s chin, knocking him backward in a cloud of blood spray. He fell to the mat like a rag doll, unconscious. I loomed over him, pumped up, ready to defend my mate against the threat he had posed, my human side trying to edge through the curtain of animal rage in front of me.
“Hey, Tidal,” a trainer yelled from the other side of the ring. “How about you keep that mate of yours tied up in your bed, yeah? She’s upsetting the hormones of the new guys.”
My head swam, nothing making sense as I stared after the woman who’d just sent my whole world off the edge. Tidal was mated to my mate… But how could that be? I knew of triads, of course—hell, I’d seen Moira and her two mates interacting at Merriweather Fields—but I’d felt nothing but rage toward the muscle-bound shifter who’d held my mate. And she was mine, I knew it. Could feel it all the way down to my toes. But who the hell was he, and why did people think they were mated?