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Present Day
My name is Miles Fischer, and I’m a werewolf.
Okay, that just sounded like I was coming into some Monsters Anonymous-type meeting. That isn’t what this is. I just figured you’d want an introduction.
No, I’m not a shifter of any sort who can turn into a giant wolf whenever I feel like it. My pack and I are real-life monsters. Well, not in the mindset most people would think when they hear the termmonster. I’m handsome in both forms and can be gentle. We are creatures of legend, controlled by the full moon or a fight-or-flight moment during the moon's other phases.
Only men can transform and hold the ability to become a werewolf. I know, it isn’t fair, but that’s how it all happened. No, we can’t bite someone to make them like us. It’s all about lineage; fathers pass it down to sons. We’re a secret race who have blended with humans for centuries to protect ourselves. Humans tend to fear and want to destroy what they do not understand. Only a handful of humans know our truth, and those are usually our loved ones, including our mates, who have proven time and again that they are the keepers of our race’s secret.
We can marry for love, but it’s so much better if we find our fated mate. She’s the woman made to fit me perfectly. That’s why women can’t become werewolves. Her personality, appearance, and scent are divinely tailored for us to be together. She would be the calm to the wildness we always do our best to rein in.
I never thought I would meet mine. I honestly thought my dad was just blowing smoke up our asses for years, and that fated mates were nothing but a myth … legend. My resolve was tested when Derek lost Annabelle, his mate. I was completely content finding a woman to warm a bed with and have some fun before moving on with my life.
I was a pig, and I fully admit it now, but things changed the moment the scent of apples infiltrated my senses, and I saw her. Like a sparkling, brand-new lure being cast into the water for the very first time, she was there—all long, tanned legs and killer heels. I hadn’t even made my gaze drag up her body yet when I was kicking myself for ever doubting my old man. He was right.
“The moment you sense her, your entire world shifts and alters for the better.”
Alexa Hart is my mate, and she’s across the bar from me now, fully aware something is beginning to bubble between us if her looking over her shoulder at me is any indication.
She’s here.
And fucking gorgeous.
Go after her.
Not yet.
Another thing about werewolves is that we’re always in constant contact with our wolf side. He’s like an independent consciousness somewhere within us. Kind of like Jiminy Cricket, but far more badass.
Sipping on my beer, I gave up my job of manning the door to Roper after she walked in. Alexa Hart has no fucking clue what she just came into and what she’ll have with me.
Sorry, ladies, Miles is officially off the market.
Never thought I would see the day.
Hush it.
My gaze tracks her as if she were my prey. She very well is from the moment her apple scent hit my nose and began to drive my wolf crazy, but she doesn’t know that … yet.
“Sure beats sitting in your cabin playing video games and downing Wild Turkey by yourself, doesn’t it?” I don’t want to take my eyes off my glittery blond bombshell to look at Derek’s ugly mug, but I do anyway.
He’s nowhere near as good-looking, and I only know her name because I had to take her ID.
“Shut it.”
“Why aren’t you putting the moves on her over there, Pretty Boy?” My hand tightens around my beer bottle. The beer does nothing for me other than something to drink, seeing as werewolves burn it all off. I can feel the bottle creak before hearing it. I fuckinghatethat nickname. I know, my mom told me never to use that word, but she also said the same about never, and here we are.
Full circle and all that shit.
The guys started calling me that since I always take a little extra time on my looks.
“Fuck. Off.”
“Oh, touchy.” The typical grim reaper-looking fucker of our pack flashes me a rare grin as he clears the table in front of me, effectively blocking my view.
“Isn’t that someone else’s job?” I wave down at the table.
He chuckles, happily ignoring my change of subject. “She’s your mate, isn’t she?”
