When an empath and a shapeshifter meet, the legend of the wolves is realized. Can they find love and escape the danger of the men from the Institute?
Margay Leah Justice
For more than a hundred and fifty years, the gray wolf has failed to roam the hills of Massachusetts, leading to the belief that they are extinct. But with a spattering of sightings across the Berkshires, the legend of the gray wolf comes to fruition. The product of that legend, Micah Sloane will go to great lengths to protect his kind from the threat of outsiders, who seek to exploit the legend for their own interests. One thing he didn’t count on, however, was finding his soul mate in the company of such men.
From the first time she predicted a stranger’s imminent death when she was little more than a child, Shiloh Beck knew she was different. Wishing to cultivate her gift, her parents made the fateful decision to enroll her in a private school for paranormally gifted children. Unbeknownst to them, the school was just a front for a research facility simply called the Institute, whose secret board members weaned gifted children from their families to exploit their gifts. Shiloh has spent the better part of her life trying to escape the Institute and reunite with the family she was told had abandoned her.
From their first meeting, Micah and Shiloh share a connection that goes beyond the normal to bond them in a way that love alone cannot. But before they can build a life together, they must deal with the fall-out when the legend of the wolves collides with the men behind the Institute.
A slight shift in the wind was Shiloh Beck’s only indication that something was out of the ordinary. So slight, in fact, it was nearly indiscernible. A whisper of air across her cheek, fanning over the skin in a manner that scarcely ruffled the loose tendril resting there. Nor did it elicit a reaction from the people who milled about in front of the country store, she noticed upon casting a surreptitious glance their way. Oh, no, only she would notice something monumental had just happened. Shiloh Beck. The sensitive.
Lifting a hand to her right cheek under the guise of brushing the hair from her face, Shiloh scanned the surrounding area with a critical eye. The place had its charm with the abundant woodlands as far as the eye could see in either direction, the "highway" cutting a swathe through it and running parallel to a river that snaked behind the house—store. Quaint. A welcoming sight with the porch that wrapped around it like a warm embrace, dotted with strategically placed loveseats and rockers. Intentional? It worked.
But that wasn't the origin of the shift.