Thirteen Clans. Thirteen Males. One prize.
Winter Jarl is the most notorious female warrior of her species. Her father is chief, and he’s dying, so he’s cashed in on a promise she made long ago: he’s setting her up with an alpha from each of the thirteen clans before she takes over his position.
Sentenced to a year of isolation, she will spend twenty-eight days alone with each man. By the end of it, Winter must choose one to stand beside her.
The challenge? She must be in love to produce an heir.
Cycle Seven: Worshiping Winter
When a prim and proper alpha replaces his wild predecessor, Winter can’t help but poke and prod, tease and torment Marsh, but he doesn’t seem to know what he wants.
Marsh has been enamored with Winter for forty years, and he can’t believe he gets to spend an entire moon cycle alone with her. Now, he has to learn how to balance his shy demeanor with the primal instincts threatening to swallow him whole.
Jump into this intense paranormal erotica now and see who you want to win Winter’s heart.
Why did she always have this heavy dread in the pit of her stomach for the hour before a new alpha arrived? Like she’d felt as a girl when she had to socialize with the kids from other families. The other girls would want to play with dolls or hair or make up, and all she wanted to do was get out of her dress and run wild outside. Which was exactly what happened by the end of night.
Winter’d come home and get a slap on the wrist from her father and her mother’s tongue as she was washed. More so when the boys she’d run off with came back with bruises and filth like she was the bad influence.
Maybe she was. Certainly more now than when she was a pup, but the boys who’d slipped off were just being boys. Although she absolutely led the ones after her mother’s death. She’d turned radioactive, and when she’d launched herself off the side of one of the cliffs to a river and came out with five broken bones, Amarok cracked down on her training. Gave her focus before she killed herself. The other two boys that followed her broke more than five.
Winter won her reputation as a bad seed—dangerous.
The knock on the door jarred her from the memory. Taking a swig from her glass of tequila, she braced herself to answer it.
She opened the door to a tall man with dark hair and eyes and…
My goddess, he’s beautiful.
The dark suit did him so many favors in that department, but it also showcased this new alpha as the epitome of poise and good breeding. He even gave her a slight bow.
“Miss Winter Jarl, a pleasure to meet you.”
Her mouth pursed at the sound of his warm voice. The embodiment of a gentleman.
“For now, Mr. Marsh Orvar.” Part of her mocked the formality, the other part wondered if she should have worn one of her mother’s dresses.
Way too long lashes brushed his lightly pinked cheeks as he looked down.
Was she embarrassing him already? This would be interesting.