If Jeremy died here tonight, it wouldn’t be in vain. He couldn’t remember the last time they had given him water, and his limbs ached with dehydration. Nausea churned his stomach. Metal clanged against metal as he rattled the chains that held him in place. It had become a game of sorts, a reminder to his enemy that he’d yet to give up.Not even with the tip of the vampire’s silver blade shoved against his windpipe.“I’ll ask you one more time, Commander.” The deep voice echoed against the steel walls. His enemy eased the blade ever closer to Jeremy’s jugular. “Will you surrender to me?”It was the game they played. The sick fuck favored slow, sadistic methods intended to break a wolf.Jeremy wasn’t any wolf.Summoning the last bit of fight left in him, Jeremy closed his eyes, leaning into the searing pain of the blade without fear. In the freezing air of the dungeon, even with his body b

Feral, male, and unforgiving, Maverick Grey was every bit as formidable as legend and legacy painted him to be. Isabella knew this from the moment the massive wolf stepped into his office. Her breath staggered at the power that rolled off him, filling the room with such thick masculine virility, she could have choked on it. But it was his eyes that were truly haunting, giving a glimpse of unspeakable violence, both seen and lived. The eyes of a warrior.Only one other pair of eyes had ever chilled her so before.His gaze fell to where Isabella knelt on the floor, or really, where she’d been tossed by his guards. A small scar slashed through his left eyebrow, drawing attention to the pale green of the iris. From a knife wound, she guessed from the smooth nature of the scarring. A claw, talon, or other lethal instrument would have left something more jagged.The guard who’d handcuffed her spoke first. “Packmaster, she drove onto the ranch without

The pain in Jeremy’s eyes tore Isabella in two, making her question all the truths he left unspoken, but what he had said vibrated through her, awakening her reasonlike a tuning fork. She couldn’t tell this cowboy she was pregnant with his child. Not when he viewed her as an outsider, thought so little of her, all because she’d been born a Rogue.I thought you were different. She wanted to scream it at him from the mountaintops.A familiar ache filled her whenever she looked at him now—a deep-seated longing. It started in her chest and resonated down to the heavy feeling in her womb. He was right, though she’d never admit it. Choosing to have a child might not have been a mindful decision, but she’d always wanted a family, children, and a partner to call her own and a pack to belong to, but as a Rogue, she’d never have those things, not even with this wild, feral Grey Wolf who made her feel things she hadn’t known s

“You look like a Hells Angel wearing a tux.” Jeremy yanked at the satin material of Wes’s tie, straightening it for the umpteenth time. He wrinkled his nose in disdain as he examined his friend and fellow packmate standing before him. Wes Calhoun looked about as right in a suit and tie as a pig did in a tutu, and thanks to Layla’s latest pet antics—a “teacup pig” she’d affectionately taken in and named Tucker—it hadn’t been that long since Jeremy had seen such a sight.Wes grumbled as Jeremy straightened his collar. “Coming from you, that’s rich.” Jeremy knew he wasn’t much cut out for the suit-and-tie business either. He was far more at home in his old ranch jeans and a T-shirt, or on the occasion he was feeling fancy, a button-down or a flannel. At least the bride had allowed them to don dress Stetsons, though the groom’s appeared to be MIA at the moment,revealing a mop of mess

At least she didn’t have to wear heels. Isabella crossed her legs at the ankles, thankful for the comfort of the crafted brown-leather cowgirl boots she was wearing. She’d been trying to imagine all the ways the evening could possibly be worse, but at this point, the heels were about all she could think of.Following the sunset ceremony, the wedding party and guests had been led toan outdoor reception area for dinner and dancing. A wide garden trellis covered in hundreds of glittering lights lit up the night and the dance floor. Tables with white linen tablecloths and bouquets of giant yellow sunflowers provided seating.Isabella slumped down in her chair and tried to shrink behind the table’s centerpiece, but she knew she was failing—miserably. Every time she moved, the halter neckline of the too-tight bridesmaid’s dress pushed the large expanse of her cleavage forward, placing her breasts front and center.As if she’