Caged Wolf (Darkmore Penitentiary, #1)

by Caroline Peckham

But beasts with hearts of steel always broke free in the end, and those that had held them captive often fell to their mercy in a shower of blood and screams.

In my Order form, I could be a guy called Norman who worked in accounts and had a bald patch and a pet cat called Arnold. Or I could be the biggest, baddest motherfucker you ever saw, with a scar down one whole side of his face and blades for fingers. It really depended on what you were into physically. Incubuses were shapeshifters of the best fucking kind. We could slip into the skin of anyone’s deepest, darkest desire just by touching them and sensing it in their flesh. And the best part about that was, I held onto every skin I’d ever owned.

Something called Physical by Dua Lipa burst into my ears and yes – yes yes yes yes.

But like Aunt Bianca always said, you won more friends with honey than lemon.

If you can’t defeat your enemy physically, then invade them mentally and pick apart their defences brick by brick.