The Heir Apparent's Rejected Mate (Five Packs, #2)

by Cate C. Wells

“Why does it smell like wood?” “That’s Cadoc Collins,” Rosie murmurs in reply. “He smells nice.” “So does cyanide,” she says.

We’ve been called worse our whole lives. I don’t like it—it doesn’t feel good—but like Abertha says, you don’t get mad ’cause a rabid dog foams at the mouth. You get the hell away from the dog.

It’s that word “our.” “Our nest.” It haunts me like a threat. Like the kind of fever dream that leaves you crying in the morning.

Rosie isn’t the scavenger who is my mate, the female who I can’t claim—she’s air. And I thought I could hold my breath forever?