The candle trembles in Astrid’s hand, its flame the only movement in a small apartment gone eerily still. It illuminates her friends, frozen like grotesque statues. Tai is frowning. Maggie’s mouth opens in horror.
Both suspended in time. And then there’s him. Her wolf snarls beneath her skin, hackles raised, every instinct screaming fight or flight. But where could she run when time itself has stopped?
He sits in Maggie’s armchair with the casual elegance of someone who’s been invited, though he hasn’t. One leg crossed over the other, watching her with inhuman eyes. Not a man, though he wears the shape of one. Not a wolf, though he carries the predatory stillness of her kind.
Vampire then? But vampires don’t have eyes like that, red as fresh blood with vertical pupils that contract in the candlelight. “Well,” he says, breaking the silence with a voice like smoke and honey. “Don’t look at me like that.
You’re the one that called for me. ”
“What? ” Astrid manages, her own voice strange in the unnatural quiet. “No, I didn’t.
”
He rises in one fluid motion, impossibly graceful. White-blonde hair falls around a face with high cheekbones and full lips curved in amusement. Skin so pale it seems to glow from within. His beauty hurts to look at.
“Oh? Is that not your blood I smell? ” He picks up the brass bowl where her blood had fallen, inhaling deeply as if savoring a fine wine. “Rich, potent wolf blood carrying such delicious longing.
”
“It wasn’t meant for you. ” Astrid backs away, candle thrust forward like a pathetic weapon. “Yet here I am. ” His smile widens, revealing teeth too sharp to be human.
They stare at each other, predator and prey. Though Astrid has never been prey before. She swallows hard, wondering how she managed to get herself into this mess. She glances at Tai’s frozen form.
Yep, she thinks. I blame Tai. Cool fingers suddenly grasp her chin, forcing her gaze back. The touch burns cold against her skin, and the candle’s flame gutters as if trying to escape.
“Eyes on me, little wolf,” he murmurs. The apartment seems to darken around them, the plants in Maggie’s windows withering before Astrid’s eyes. The air grows heavy with the scent of burning sugar and something metallic, something ancient. “Who are you?
” she whispers, her wolf pacing anxiously beneath her skin, unable to emerge. “Your worst nightmare. ” Then, noticing Astrid’s expression, he smirks. “Relax.
That was a joke. I’m a demon. ”
The word hangs between them, simple and devastating, before he adds, “And I have a proposition for you. ”
His fingertips trace the air near her cheek, never quite touching.
“After all,” he whispers, “such desperate longing in your blood. I think we might be able to help each other. ”
Chapter 1
A few hours earlier, the great hall of the Northern Territories pack vibrates with the clink of glasses. The annual spring gathering brings together wolves from all neighboring packs.
A political dance as much as a social one. Alliances are formed, trade agreements sealed, and most importantly, potential mates assessed. Astrid tugs at the unfamiliar dress her mother insisted upon, which she suspects was chosen to hide the muscle she spent years developing. The fabric feels restrictive compared to her usual training clothes.
“Stand up straight,” her mother had instructed earlier. “Smile, but not too broadly. And for Moon’s sake, try to laugh at their jokes. ”
Astrid is trying.
She really is. It’s not her fault none of them are funny. But when Eric, Beta of the Mountain Ridge Pack, passes by, she manages what she hopes is an inviting smile. He nods politely and continues walking.
And when the son of the southern pack’s alpha pauses nearby, she compliments his ceremonial dagger, a genuine appreciation for its craftsmanship. But he just looks startled, as if she’s threatened to cut off his genitals with it. None of it matters anyway. Her eyes keep drifting back to him.
To Daniel. He stands across the room, tall and confident in formal attire that does nothing to diminish the warrior’s grace in his movements. Daniel, who taught her to track when they were eight. Daniel, who sat with her all night when her first wolf shift left her feverish and disoriented.
Daniel, who is completely, utterly captivated by her sister. It’s hard to focus on finding someone when you’ve already found the one you want. Only they’re not interested. Astrid tracks the approach of a handsome wolf from the western pack, allowing herself a flicker of hope when he moves in her direction.
She smooths her dress, straightens her posture. He walks right past her to the bar, not sparing her a glance. “For crying out loud, Astrid,” her mother hisses, materializing beside her. “You look like you’re getting ready to attack.
Would it kill you to smile a little bit? ”
Astrid responds with what she hopes is her best smile. Her mother sighs dramatically. “We’re screwed,” she mutters under her breath, then clears her throat.
“Look, why don’t you try to copy what Jasmine does, all right? Your sister was always good at being approachable. ”
Astrid purses her lips. She doesn’t want to look at Jasmine.
She already knows her sister is perfectly poised, perfectly elegant, perfectly everything. She’s found a mate already, hasn’t she? She’d had her pick of plenty of proposals, and she’d chosen Daniel. Astrid’s Daniel.
Astrid’s eyes betray her, drifting to where they stand together. Jasmine is radiant in a pale gold dress that complements her honey-blonde hair. Daniel can’t take his eyes off her, his entire body angled toward her as if she’s the sun. If that isn’t love, Astrid doesn’t know what is.
“Astrid,” her mother prompts, frowning at her expression. “Trying my best, Mom,” Astrid says, hearing the brittleness in her own voice. “Try harder,” her mother replies. “This isn’t just about you.
This is about our entire family standing. With Jasmine’s match to a regular warrior, she can barely hide her distaste. All our hopes for advancement rest on you now. You must bring honor to us all, Astrid.
”
As if Astrid could forget. The pressure sits on her shoulders like a physical weight. Her mother drifts off to charm a neighboring Luna, leaving Astrid alone to slip to the edge of the hall. The rejection cuts deep.
There’s Daniel, the sharpest wound, the one she’s nursed for years. Then there’s the silent dismissal from every eligible male in the territory. And below all that, like a slow poison in her veins, is the knowledge that she’s failing her family. Her parents had such hopes that Jasmine would make the political match, elevating their status, securing their future.
But Jasmine chose love, and now Astrid must be something she was never meant to be. “You look like you need a drink. ” A voice comes from behind her. “A real one, I mean.
”
Astrid quickly wipes at her eyes before turning. “Am I that predictable? ”
“Only to someone who’s known you since you ate dirt on a dare when we were six,” Tai says, extending a flask. They stand in companionable silence for a moment, watching the happy couple receiving congratulations.
Tai doesn’t press, doesn’t offer empty platitudes. It’s one of the things she’s always appreciated about him. They’ve been good friends for years. “Your mother’s looking for you,” he says finally.
“Something about the Riverstone Pack’s alpha showing interest. ”
Astrid snorts. “He was asking about Jasmine. They all are.
”
“Not all of them,” Tai counters gently. “Name one who’s asked about me tonight. ”
His silence is answer enough. “Okay,” Tai says.
“How about we get out of here and go where? ”
Astrid sighs. “I might know someone who could help with your situation. ”
“A miracle worker?
”
Astrid laughs without humor. “Something like that,” Tai replies, his expression turning thoughtful. “You trust me? ”
She shouldn’t have.
That moment of trust, that simple nod under the chandeliers, would lead Astrid straight into the arms of a dangerous demon, one whose proposition would change everything. Chapter 2
Astrid hesitates at the threshold of the apartment. It’s not at all what she expected from a witch’s lair. It is a simple flat in a nondescript building rather than some mystical cottage.
The only hint of something unusual is the sheer abundance of plants hanging from the ceiling, crowding every window sill, sprouting from pots of all shapes and sizes along the walls. If these were Astrid’s plants, they’d be long dead. “Will you relax? ” Tai elbows her side as his witch friend retreats to gather a teapot.
“Maggie’s cool, all right. She’s a good witch. ”
Astrid sends the good witch a glance. She’s nothing like she expected either.
No flowing robes or dramatic makeup, just a woman in her 30s in an oversized sweater. “Do one of you want to tell me what brings you here? ” she asks, putting herbs in her teapot. “Desperation,” Tai quips, earning himself a death glare from Astrid.
“Hers, not mine,” he adds good-naturedly. Maggie’s eyes shift to Astrid with curious interest. “Astrid here is a poor, unfortunate soul, Mags,” Tai insists, practically pushing Astrid forward. “One who needs your help.
”
Maggie studies her with shrewd eyes, then silently puts away the teapot she’d been reaching for. “So, the strong stuff, then? ”
Tai nods gravely. “Please.
”
Maggie disappears into the kitchen and returns with a dusty bottle of amber liquid and three glasses. “Right. ” She settles into an armchair across from them. “How can I help then?
Tai rarely brings friends to meet me. ”
Tai nudges Astrid. “Tell her. ”
Astrid groans in response, slumping deeper into the cushions.
“It’s not so bad,” Tai interjects, earning himself a golden-eyed glare. “Not so bad? My sister and the love of my life being mates is not so bad? ” Astrid’s voice rises, her wolf stirring beneath her skin with the emotion.
Maggie raises an eyebrow. “I see unrequited love, family drama. The classics. ”
“It’s more than that,” Astrid says, taking another long drink.
The wolfsbane wine loosens her tongue, and she finds herself telling this stranger everything about Daniel. About how she’d finally gathered the courage to confess her feelings, only for him to interrupt and declare he’d found his mate in Jasmine. “I should have told him sooner,” Astrid whispers, the words heavy with regret. “How much sooner do you think?
” Tai asks. “Because I’m pretty sure he’s friend-zoned you since that burping contest you won. ”
Astrid snaps her head toward him. She turns back to Maggie.
“This isn’t just about Daniel. Jasmine choosing him puts the careful political balance of my entire family at risk. Everyone had expected Jasmine to marry up. Perhaps even to the neighboring pack’s alpha son, a strategic alliance that would strengthen their position.
And now they’re stuck with me. ” Astrid continues, finishing her third glass of wine. “So, to quote my mother, we’re screwed. I mean, look at me.
I will never pass for a perfect bride or a perfect daughter. ”
“You’re selling yourself short,” Tai protests. “With a lot of makeup, and if you squint,” Astrid kicks him in the shin. “Jasmine’s been trained all her life to be poised, witty, and diplomatic.
” She grunts. “Meanwhile, I’ve been trained to throw a good punch and transform quickly. ”
“You also kick very well. ” Tai winces, holding onto his leg.
Meanwhile, Maggie taps her fingernails against her wine glass thoughtfully. “Well, I could read your cards, see what they say. Who knows? Love could just be right around the corner.
”
“You think so? ” Astrid asks, a pathetic note of hope in her voice. Maggie reaches for a deck. “Let’s find out, shall we?
”
What follows is a blur of increasingly bizarre divination methods, each one fueled by more wolfsbane wine. They try reading tea leaves. Astrid sees what looks like a wolf eating its own tail. Scrying in a black mirror, which shows only darkness.
And even examining the patterns of scattered bones, which Maggie assures them are not human. By the time they’re working on their fifth attempt, something involving melted wax dropped into cold water, all three of them are thoroughly intoxicated. Tai is sprawled on the floor, giggling at shapes in the ceiling texture. Astrid’s head is spinning, but her heart still aces.
“Okay. There’s one more thing we could try. ” Maggie disappears into another room and returns with a wooden board covered in symbols and a velvet pouch. “We can try summoning a spirit,” she says, emptying the pouch to reveal several crystals and a pendulum.
“See if one of your ancestors could help reverse your fortune. ”
Tai props himself up on his elbows. “Is that possible? ”
Maggie shrugs, her movements loose from the wine.
“I don’t know. ” She smiles. “But could be fun. ”
With surprising efficiency, she clears the coffee table and arranges candles in a circle, placing herbs in a small brass bowl at the center.
“Normally, I wouldn’t do this,” she admits. “But desperate times, desperate measures, right? ”
The candles cast a warm glow over the room as Maggie begins to chant in a language Astrid doesn’t recognize. The air grows heavy, charged with something that makes her wolf stir uneasily beneath her skin.
“Now,” Maggie whispers, producing a small silver knife. “I need a drop of your blood. Think hard about summoning your ancestors, seeking their help. Focus on what you truly desire.
”
Astrid winces as the blade nicks her finger. She holds it over the burning herbs, watching as a single drop of blood falls. But her mind isn’t on ancestors or help. All she can think about is Daniel and Jasmine together, his hand on her sister’s waist, that look of adoration in his eyes that was never for her.
Her parents’ disapproving faces as they ask if she’s begun courting someone. The last guy she’d been introduced to, backing away nervously after she’d casually demonstrated her knife expertise. The blood hits the burning leaves. The droplet seems to hover for a moment, suspended in time before it touches the smoldering herbs.
When it does, the crimson liquid doesn’t sizzle as expected. It disappears, absorbed instantly. The silence that follows is absolute. Even the constant hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of traffic outside have vanished, as if someone has muted the world.
Then the smoke begins. Not the gentle curl of incense or the puff of extinguished candles. The smoke erupts from the bowl like a geyser, unnaturally thick and blood red, twisting into shapes that seem almost deliberate. Claws.
Fangs. Eyes that form and dissolve. The temperature in the room plummets. Frost forms on the wine glasses, crackling across the surface.
Astrid’s breath clouds in front of her face. All the candles extinguish simultaneously, but the room doesn’t go dark. Instead, it’s bathed in a sickly crimson glow emanating from the smoke itself. “Maggie,” Astrid whispers, her voice unnaturally loud in the silence.
“I think I mixed the wrong herbs,” she replies, her face pale in the red light. The smoke continues to pour from the bowl, pooling along the floor like a living thing curling around their ankles. It feels wrong against Astrid’s skin. Not cold, not hot, but somehow both.
And neither. “What do you mean? ” Astrid asks. Maggie doesn’t respond.
“Maggie, what did you mean? ” she insists. Astrid turns to look at her friends and freezes. They aren’t moving.
Not frozen in fear or shock. Actually frozen. Maggie’s mouth is open mid-explanation, a look of dawning horror on her face. Tai is suspended in the act of scrambling to his feet, one hand braced on the coffee table.
Not a muscle twitches. Not an eyelid blinks. The only sound in the room is Astrid’s ragged breathing. “Hello?
” she calls out, her voice trembling. “Is anyone? ”
The smoke surges upward, coalescing into a dense column that towers to the ceiling. The crimson light pulses like a heartbeat, casting grotesque shifting shadows across the walls.
Astrid backs away, stumbling over an ottoman. “This isn’t happening,” she mutters. A rustling behind her, like fabric brushing against fabric. The distinct sensation of being watched prickles the back of her neck.
Astrid’s heart hammers against her ribs. She strikes the match with trembling fingers. It flares to life, a tiny beacon in the crimson gloom. She whirls around, thrusting the match forward like a weapon.
The flame illuminates a face inches from her own. Beautiful in a way that hurts to look at. Flawless pale skin. White-blonde hair that seems to float as if underwater.
And eyes red like fresh blood with vertical pupils that contract slightly in the matchlight. “You rang? ” he purrs, lips curving into a smile that reveals teeth too sharp to be human. Astrid’s warrior instincts kick in.
She grabs the candle, thrusting the flame toward his face as she scrambles backward. But he’s gone. Vanished from in front of her only to reappear lounging casually in Maggie’s armchair. “Now, now,” he says, examining his nails as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the room.
“Is that any way to greet the answer to your prayers? ”
Chapter 3
The candle flame flickers, casting eerie shadows across the demon’s too-beautiful face. His scent is intoxicating in a way that makes her wolf dizzy. Dark honey.
Burnt cinnamon. And something older, wilder that she can’t name. “What do you want? ” Astrid asks, heart hammering against her ribs.
The thing tilts its head. “The better question, little wolf, is what do you want? ”
His gaze feels physical somehow, like a caress sliding over her skin. “Easy,” Astrid snaps.
“For you to leave. ”
“Come now,” the demon laughs. “We both know that’s not what your blood was crying out for when it fell upon those herbs. ” He inhales deeply, his eyes half closing in apparent pleasure.
“Such desperation. Such longing. ” He whispers. “The humiliation.
The fear of failing your family. ”
When his eyes open again, they’re darker. Hungry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Astrid says with a growl.
“No? ” He rises, circling her slowly. Each step is deliberate, predatory, yet undeniably elegant. “Then I suppose you weren’t at a gathering tonight watching the man you love announce his intention to mate with your sister.
”
Something in the tone sends a shiver down her spine. “Go away,” Astrid commands, about as impressive as a hedgehog. The demon circles around her once more, then pauses, his eyes sweeping the room. “Is that what you wolves drink in your pastime?
” He suddenly asks, snatching up the abandoned bottle of wolfsbane wine from Maggie’s table. He frowns in distaste as he examines the label. Astrid blinks in confusion. “Are you critiquing our wine?
”
“I’m making conversation. ” The demon pours himself a glass with the elegance of a sommelier. “Would you like some? Might help settle those nerves.
”
Despite herself, Astrid snorts. “You’re offering me a drink of wine you don’t even like or own. ”
The demon stares, swirling the liquid in his glass. “You look like you could use it,” he answers simply, offering her the glass.
Their fingers brush as she takes it. “I’m already drunk enough as it is,” Astrid says, taking a cautious sip anyway. “Drunk enough to be talking to you even. ”
The demon pouts.
Lips full and perfectly shaped. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ”
“I didn’t call for you,” Astrid insists, though her voice lacks conviction. “Not intentionally, perhaps.
” He settles into Maggie’s armchair. “But blood magic has a way of revealing our deepest desires, little wolf, and yours were, shall we say, particularly potent. ”
Astrid leans against the bookshelf, needing its solidity. “So what?
You just appear whenever someone’s desperate enough? ”
“Not at all. ” He sips his wine, watching her over the rim of his glass. “Most humans want such boring things.
I only come for the interesting ones. ”
“So I’m interesting then? ” Astrid asks, crossing her arms. “Very much so.
” He taps his nose. “I can smell the yearning on you for the dark-haired wolf with the hero complex. ”
A reluctant laugh escapes her. “Daniel doesn’t have a hero complex.
”
“Please. ” The demon rolls his eyes. “He’s practically a walking romance novel cover. All brooding looks and noble sacrifices, I’d wager.
”
His distaste is so exaggerated that Astrid finds herself smiling despite the absurdity of the situation. “So,” the demon says, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “You don’t want me to help you find yourmate, little wolf? ”
The smile fades from Astrid’s face.
“As if you could. ”
She sighs, taking another, longer drink of wine. “You don’t believe me? I’m wounded.
” He places a hand over his heart. “What if I told you I’ve been helping lovesick fools find matches for centuries? ”
“I’d say you’re full of it. ”
“Maybe I am.
And yet, what do you have to lose? ”
“Oh, I don’t know. My soul? ” Astrid retorts.
“Your soul. ” He laughs. A rich sound that seems to fill the room and vibrate through her chest. “What would I do with that dusty old thing?
No, little wolf. I have much more practical interests. ”
“Like what? ” Astrid asks.
The question comes out breathier than she intended. “All in good time. ” The demon’s lips curl. “Come closer.
”
Astrid hesitates, then takes a step forward, drawn by something she can’t quite name. Curiosity. Desperation. The wolfsbane wine.
“That’s better. ” He circles her again, but this time the movement feels less predatory, more evaluative. “The men of your world are blind,” he observes, his voice a soft caress. “But I can open their eyes.
”
Astrid blinks up at him, finding it increasingly difficult to focus. His beauty is mesmerizing up close. Features too perfect to be human, yet undeniably masculine. “What do you mean?
” she whispers. “I mean I can make you irresistible,” he says simply. “Every male in your vicinity will be drawn to you. Your scent, your presence, your essence.
They won’t be able to look away. ” His voice drops lower, becoming almost hypnotic. “They’ll hunger for you. ”
Despite herself, Astrid feels a flicker of hope and something warmer.
Something that pools low in her belly at his words. “You mean you’re going to change my appearance? ” she asks, still not convinced, though increasingly aware of her body’s traitorous response to his presence. The demon snorts.
“It’s not so much about appearances. ” His gaze sweeps over her again. “And yours is beautiful as it is. ”
Astrid feels a flush creeping up her neck.
“I will give you a magnetism of sorts,” he continues, one finger tracing an invisible line along her jawline, not quite touching. “A pull that no male can resist. Potential mates will come to you, ready for your choosing. ”
She narrows her eyes.
“But willingly? ”
“Oh, they’ll be very willing. ” He assures her. “Trust me.
They’ll think it was entirely their idea. ”
“Trust you? ” Astrid laughs. “You’re a demon.
”
“And you’re a wolf. ” He counters. “We all have our burdens to bear. ”
The unexpected quip startles another laugh from her.
This is insane. Standing in her friend’s frozen apartment, bantering with a supernatural being who’s offering to solve all her problems and feeling what? Attracted? Enchanted?
“So, my mate will find me,” she surmises, swaying slightly on her feet. “Your mate? ” The demon steadies her with a hand on her arm. “Or mates.
You’ll only have to take your pick. ”
The room spins a little faster. “And in exchange? ” Astrid asks.
The demon reaches into the smoke still swirling between them. When his hand emerges, he’s holding a delicate silver chain with a small red stone pendant. “In exchange, you’ll be wearing this necklace,” he says. Astrid blinks, certain she’s misheard.
“That’s it? ”
“That’s it. ”
The necklace dangles from his fingers, catching the candlelight. “You in?
”
Astrid hesitates. “This is too good to be true,” she says, shaking her head. “And yet. ” The demon smiles.
“It will be just as I said. ”
From somewhere within the smoke, he produces a scroll, unfurling it with a flourish. The parchment is covered in elegant script, symbols she doesn’t recognize framing the edges. “A simple agreement,” he explains, “stating exactly what I’ve told you.
I make you irresistible to men, and you wear my necklace. ”
Astrid tries to read the scroll, but the words swim before her wine-blurred vision. Her head feels too heavy. Thoughts sluggish and muddled.
“Allow me. ” The demon clears his throat dramatically. “The bearer, Astrid Raven, shall be granted irresistible allure, et cetera, save for relatives ’cause that would be weird, et cetera, et cetera. In exchange, she agrees to wear the enchanted necklace provided by the demon Levi.
”
“Who’s Levi? ” Astrid interrupts, her brow furrowing in confusion. “That would be my name,” he replies with a hint of impatience. He offers her the scroll, his fingers brushing hers deliberately as he transfers it.
“Go on. Take a gulp and take a pen and go ahead and sign the scroll. ”
She stares at him dumbfounded. “I don’t have a pen.
”
With a twist of his wrist, a gleaming fountain pen appears between his fingers, the nib glinting ominously in the candlelight. Their eyes meet over the scroll. Something shifts in his expression, the predatory hunger replaced by what appears to be genuine sincerity. “It will be fine, Astrid,” he says.
“I promise. ”
The warmth in his voice disarms her final defenses. Her family’s standing. Her sister’s happiness.
Daniel. It all hangs in the balance. And beneath it all, the strange, inexplicable pull she feels toward this beautiful, dangerous creature. With unsteady fingers, she takes the pen and scrawls her name at the bottom of the scroll.
The moment the ink touches parchment, the smoke swirls violently around them. The necklace rises from his palm, hovering in the air for a heartbeat before settling around her neck. The stone feels warm against her skin, pulsing in time with her heart. When she looks up, the demon is gone.
The candles flare back to life. Tai’s laughter resumes mid-sound. Maggie’s horror transforms into confusion as she looks around the now ordinary room. “Wrong herbs,” she finishes, blinking.
“Huh? ”
“The lights are back. That was weird. ”
“Did you guys feel that?
” Tai asks, rubbing his arms. “Like a cold draft or something? ”
Astrid’s hand flies to her throat, fingers finding the smooth stone pendant that wasn’t there before. “More wine?
” Maggie offers, already reaching for the bottle. Astrid nods numbly, trying to process what just happened. Had it been real? She takes another sip of wine, mind replaying fragments of the encounter.
Those serpentine eyes watching her with amusement. The smooth velvet-and-gravel voice that seemed to caress her from the inside out. His scent—honey, cinnamon, and something ancient that makes her dizzy still. “It will be fine, Astrid,” he’d said.
“I promise. ”
A shiver runs through her as a realization hits. She never told him her name.
