Abducted and taken to a remote cabin in Alaska, Frankie finds herself at the mercy of four feral men, each with his own dark secrets and twisted desires. With nowhere to run, she must rely on her wits to survive the harsh winter trapped with them. As she delves into their mysterious pasts, she uncovers an insidious evil that feeds on loyalty and uses love as a weapon.

It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball. A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger. But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love. He’s fueled by revenge. To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage. His rival’s betrothed. To me, he is a man deserving of poison. A dark prince I refuse to marry. He thinks I’ll accept my fate. Well, I plan to rewrite it. And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die. But Romeo? He perishes.

I had a foolproof plan. Finish college playing the best sport on earth. Hockey. Get drafted by an NHL team. Make my senator father at least a little proud of me. I was on track to do just that…until Violet Reece and I collided. Literally.

I can’t remember anymore if my grandfather’s eyes were blue or green, but I’ll never forget the way they wrinkled at the corners when he laughed at one of his own jokes. Or the way they sparkled with mischief when he told me tales about the magical creatures that dwelled in the forest behind his humble Irish sheep farm. As a child, I believed every fantastical word. But when he warned me about the mute boy who also lurked in those woods, the one the priest had declared to be the spawn of Satan himself, I refused to listen.

Never stop running. And no matter what, never let the world know who you really are. I’ve spent my whole life hiding. Training. Preparing. Hoping that no one will discover my secrets. What I can do. Who I am. And I’ve gotten so good at it, sometimes even I forget. Until them. The wolf pack with a ruthless reputation and a penchant for revenge. The protective fighter. The charming Brit. The shy hacker. The silent mercenary. The cruel assassin. They see more than anyone ever has before. And even with demons of their own, they give me sanctuary.

“Madison Kate Danvers was murdered tonight.” Those words changed my life, and not for the better. They were wrong, of course. I wasn’t dead. But I was set up. After being charged with a string of offences - and made an example of by my political-minded father - I’m eventually released back into Shadow Grove with one thing on my mind. Hate. Someone is going to pay for derailing my carefully laid-out future. How very convenient that someone just moved into the bedroom down the hall from me.

Gather round close, for I have a secret to tell. Late at night, while everyone is sleeping, dreaming of white knights and fairytales. I'm making friends with the monsters. They call to me, like finds like, right? My biggest secret, I'm the scariest monster I know. I think I'm the bad guy.

"Give me a second chance, babe . . . and I'll blow your mind." Monroe doesn't know why she answers the text that's obviously meant for someone else. Or why she keeps answering. Maybe it's because she's all alone in a big city and in desperate need of a lifeline. Or maybe it's because each exchange leaves her intrigued and more than a little turned on.

Once upon a time there lived three men bonded by darkness and pain. Each fighting a past that wants to drown them. All of them damaged and broken. None of them complete. Until her.

When I was a little girl, I dreamed a handsome knight would come and rescue me from my wretched mother. He'd ride up on his white steed and break the curse I've been fated to carry since the day I was born. Funny how things changed over time, how the fairytale twisted into something far more crooked—and darker—than I ever imagined. In reality, my knight is scarred and broken, living alone in a castle of bones that overlooks the sea. He isn’t searching for me. He never was.

The Obsidian Order only cares about three things: secrecy, loyalty, and power. Every man born to the founding families is bred for this purpose, to serve the society and its objectives. As a result, we are the elite. Untouchable. Unbreakable. If we make it through the Trials. I will, as long as my obsession doesn't get the best of me. This girl… If the Order doesn't kill me, she'll be the death of me. Because I won't give her up. She's mine.

In the dark underbelly of the mob, Tristan Caine has been an anomaly. As the only non-blooded member in the high circle of the Tenebrae Outfit, he is an enigma to all. His skills are unparalleled, his morality is questionable, and his motives are unknown. He is lethal and he knows it. As does Morana Vitalio, the genius extraordinaire daughter of the rival family. What Caine does with weapons, Morana does with computers. When a twenty-year-old mystery resurfaces, Morana infiltrates Caine's house, intent on killing him, unaware of a tie that binds them together.

Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from unrequited love. But it's time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive calling. What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps seeing around campus could be a great one - only he is the new poetry professor - the married poetry professor.

We were 16 the night she was violently assaulted while I helplessly watched. I’ll never forget the sounds of her suffering. Or my inconsolable agony when she left Oklahoma. Years later, she returns to honor our teenage pact. Except the boy she loved is gone, replaced by a ruthless cattle rancher knotted with secrets. She doesn’t know my dark cravings or the trails of sin that lead to her. I don’t deserve her, but one truth remains: She’s mine.

Being the twin of a movie star isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Eva is glamorous, sweet, and everything I’m not. Believe me, every person in my life has made that crystal clear. The press calls me the Ice Queen, leaving pack after pack broken in my wake. I wish it were true. All I’ve ever wanted was a pack—to be loved and cherished the way an Omega was meant to be—but now I’ve given up hope. Every group I meet wants a copy of my sister. Let’s not even mention the ones who called me by her name.