by
Curses, monsters and arranged matings!
Rourke Flint, alpha of the Flint Pack, is sick of being at war with witches, sick of watching his friends die. So sick of it, he’d traded a piece of land for a witch to take as his mate in hopes of building an alliance. But werewolves mate for life, and now he’ll be forever tied to whichever witch they’re handing over.
Ezra Inaxx Kuxium Enizax is a useless witch and the one the clan decides to sacrifice to the monsters. He’s never met a shifter before, but he’s heard the stories. Deviants. Beasts. Giants. And now he’ll spend the rest of his life with one of them.
Rourke soon realizes the witches don’t want a treaty, and Ezra was sent to him as an insult. Ezra knows his clan never intended for there to be peace, but Rourke isn’t nearly as cruel as he was led to believe, and wouldn’t peace be a pleasant change? What if he could give Rourke enough information to achieve it?
Publisher: JMS Books, LLC
Editors:
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 4
Romantic Content: 3
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Bisexual, Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: Ageless/Immortal
Tropes: Alpha Character, Big Character / Little Character, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Marriage of Convenience
Word Count: 53000
Languages Available: English
Rourke downed another glass of whiskey. It wasn’t often he drank. They didn’t have money to waste on alcohol. He could most often rustle up a beer but not hard liquor.
He was holed up in the office and had been for hours. This day had not gone as planned.
There was a light tap on the door, then Ulric stepped inside. “Are you gonna hide for long?”
READ MORE“A lifetime.” He poured another glass. Ulric sighed but grabbed a glass from a side table and sat with one chair between them. Rourke pushed the bottle in his direction and rubbed his chest. The heat in there was growing more insistent by the minute. Annoyingly so. Several times, he almost rose to go look for Ezra but had poured himself another glass instead.
“The braids show how much you’ve proven yourself to the clan, and the things in them are gifts as a sign of respect.”
Rourke frowned. “So he hasn’t proven himself and doesn’t have much in ways of respect.”
Ulric nodded. “The question is if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“How do you mean?”
“We hate witches. Do you want your mate to be someone they respect or someone they don’t respect?”
Rourke tried to make sense of what he was saying, but his brain wasn’t cooperating. “Meaning?”
“They hate us, right? Think we’re deviant creatures.” Ulric gave him a sharp grin.
“Right.”
“Right, so isn’t it a good thing your mate isn’t someone they respect?”
He might be right. “But it means him being here is an insult.”
“Yeah, and judging by how they ignored him when they hightailed it out of here, I think we can kiss any hopes of an alliance goodbye. But, we have a witch now.”
“It was all for nothing. I mated a witch for nothing. Tied myself to a man who doesn’t want me for the rest of my life.” He gulped down a good-sized swallow of whiskey.
Ulric grimaced. “Sorry, man.”
He hadn’t gone into an arranged mating with the belief he’d fall in love, hell, he’d been prepared for it to be a platonic relationship other than the actual mating, but he’d hoped for… mutual respect.
“You should go to him.”
“Why?” He had to force himself not to touch his chest.
“Because I fear he’s still standing in the middle of the room staring at the floor.” Ulric rubbed his neck and sipped the whiskey. “He’s so fucking small. Are all witch males small?”
“The other one wasn’t much bigger.”
Ulric grimaced. “No, I guess not.”
“How did you even—”
Rourke flashed teeth.
“Never mind. I’d have been terrified of harming him.”
“He’s my mate, so you don’t have to worry about it.” Why was his voice so growly?
Ulric grinned. “Nope, I won’t worry.” Then he chuckled, the bastard. “Go to bed, boss. You’re on edge, it’s late, and it’s been one hell of a day.” He flattened his palm against the table. “Maybe breathing him in will relieve some of the stress.”
“I’m not stressed.” He rubbed his chest.
“Of course not.”
Ulric emptied his glass, rapped his knuckles on the table, and stood. “Come on now. Tomorrow is a new day.”
A day where he’d wake up mated to a witch. He downed the whiskey and stood.
COLLAPSE
