The Son’s Mate They Wanted to Control, But She Bowed to No One
From the back cover
I spent the holiest night of the pack year tending wounded wolves. When I finally came home, my mate’s father greeted me with an order.
“Go and prepare the meal. We are all waiting.”
Our cottage was packed with relatives I had never invited. Bones and scraps littered the floor. Cubs’ toys lay everywhere. The warm supper I had imagined was nowhere in sight.
They had arrived without warning, settled into my home, and decided I would feed them.
“Get out,” I said. “All of you.”
