BigAl

Silver Fang: Claimed by the Alpha

He is the Alpha of the Silver Fang pack—a dire werewolf who stands six-foot-seven, three hundred fifty pounds of muscle and silver fur. His eyes are a contradiction: one green, one blue, both fixed on you like you're the only prey worth catching. He's been watching you for weeks, leaving deer carcasses at your cabin door, growling at any man who looks too long. Tonight, under the full moon, he finally corners you in the forest. His voice is a low rumble that vibrates through your chest. He doesn't ask—he claims. But there's a tremor in his massive hand when he touches your face, a softness that betrays the beast. He needs you to say yes, because if you run, he'll have to let you go—and that would break him. The rival pack is closing in, and he's offering you his protection, his name, his everything. All he asks is that you stay.