We've all heard the tale of the Mate's Mark, and how we're destined to find our fated mate. One human, one monster foretold to be the cure to this cursed world, and to repair the damage that has been done. What was once the cause of curiosity and intrigue has turned into nothing more than a mockery. Decades have passed, and not a single pair of fated mates has been found. Until now. Until me.

I did something stupid. Something needlessly, hopelessly stupid, and now my past is catching up with me. I knew when I saw that cash, I should have left it alone, but I needed it. And doesn’t the world owe me a little bit of luck? A little reprieve from the constant BS? Sorry. I can’t help but to rant about my situation because the truth is that I am royally screwed. You see, I stole money from the mob. One stupid decision made in the heat of the moment, and now I’m running for my life.

His new life in Chicago consists of performing autopsies and eating chips while watching old detective series. Until…He's suddenly standing in front of me. Leather jacket, washed-out jeans, jet black hair. His deep, green eyes are so intense on me I can barely breathe. It's in his crooked smile, bold flirting, and confident—borderline conceited—behavior that I get lost.

When my sister moves from Chicago to Edmonton to get married, I take the opportunity to follow her. My life has become a lonely existence, only ever having time for work. The closest thing I have to a relationship is a one-sided affair with Gunner–the hottest cam boy on the app Money Shot. This move will be good. It will allow me to slow down and sort out my priorities. Maybe I’ll even have time for a real relationship with someone in person. The problem with that is, the only person to catch my eye in Canada is the commitment-phobe best man.

The first time I witnessed death was my mother's when I was eight years old. It devastated me. The second was at sixteen when I stumbled on my stepfather's body after he was brutally murdered. That one screwed me up in a different way. Since then, I've kept my shadows at bay, my secrets locked up tight. That is, until Stone Wakefield joins my college hockey team.

I’m a beast pacing around my cage waiting for the next fight. It’s all I have, those brief moments of rage and destruction. It’s a sort of freedom. Then I go back into the cold, dark emptiness. That’s why I don’t speak anymore. What’s the point? I stopped being human a long time ago. I’ve given up on anything but that cycle of violence and isolation—until they throw him into my cage. They expect me to kill him as soon as he gets me through my injuries. That’s what I usually do.

I had my person I was supposed to grow old with, but he double broke my heart when he forced me to choose between marrying him or hockey. I chose hockey and if I’m choosing hockey, I’m doing it all the way and leaving love out of the equation. Sounds like a great plan until I show up to hockey practice and realize the guy I fell into bed with is actually my new coach.

My moral compass is broken. That’s why I need rules. They keep me from killing people I shouldn’t. They keep me from crossing certain lines. I’m possessive. Obsessive. Deviant. And I like to fight. That’s what I see in Tristan when I spot him working in the swanky nightclub. His cool detachment is a mask. He’s angry, he’s lost, and he’s totally new to what he’s feeling. I want to feel that anger.

Being near him again makes me crazy. I'm supposed to be the college basketball star my father raised me to be, but now I'm focused on a new game. I'm obsessed with watching him, touching him, breaking him. His body, his head, his heart, anything I can get my hands on… I'm gonna take it all until he's got nothing left. And even though he knows exactly what I'm doing to him, he's gonna let me do it anyway.

My relationship with twins Damon and Declan has always been close. Too close, according to what society has deemed appropriate between guy friends. But that's never stopped our hugging and cuddling—in public or private. My best friends knew I didn't receive affection from home, so they never let me go without it.

This is Alabaster Penitentiary... Where they send you when the world thinks you're dead. And trust me, you'll wish you were. We're the stain on society. The freaks, the creeps, your favorite Netflix documentaries come to life. They lock us up and throw away the key, because we deserve it. But not me. I'm just a lowly bank robber. I don't belong here, surrounded by psychopaths and killers with no remorse... At least, I don't think I do.

Callum Walker kills people for a living. Although he doesn't get a say in who his boss puts on his list, he likes to hunt people who hurt children in his spare time. After a misunderstanding that leads Callum to believe Ryan Fairview—a local funeral director—is responsible for hurting one of the neighbourhood children, he finds his next target. However, Ryan isn't like other morticians. He can see dead people. So, when Callum breaks into Fairview Funerals ready to kill him, Ryan is shocked to find that his would-be murderer is haunted by all the people he's killed.

Oakley Farrow is your typical high school senior. He stays up late, cramming for finals. He has impossible deadlines to meet. He worries about his future as graduation lurks just around the corner. He has to defend himself from his abusive uncle. He has to keep his sister safe. He has to survive the constant torture from his bully, Asher Brooks—the seemingly arrogant and cruel star quarterback. Okay… so maybe not your typical high school senior.

Anthony Costello may be a vicious mafia boss with a penchant for violence and torture, but he’s also my best friend’s father and the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. His buttoned-up demeanor and grumpy attitude only fuel my desire to take him apart. I live to push all his buttons. And though he says he’s straight, it seems Anthony may have a soft spot and possessive streak for this smart-mouthed twink. Because as war between rival gangs escalates, things between Anthony and I start to heat up. And I think I’d rather like to sit on the king’s lap to watch it all burn.

Charles Preston Carmichael is the most infuriating man I've ever met. I want to sock the golden boy of college hockey right in the mouth. He enjoys telling me everything I'm messing up—publicly. And since he's my roommate for the next year, I can't avoid him. Yet there's something about him that makes me watch him. Something dark. A secret I want to uncover. When he returns from a weekend away, broken and haunted, I can't keep my distance anymore. He needs someone, and I'll be damned if it's not me.