She’s his
muse, his mate, and she’s completely offlimits.
He’s a jerk, a recluse, and her newest
assignment.
Until he broke her heart, Vivianna Lopez loved Logan
Reynolds.
Five years later, she’s an aspiring music journalist and
he’s the camerashy lead singer of Logan and the Howlers.
Armed with a backstage pass, Vivi’s back in her hometown
of Reno, nestled in the shadows of the Sierra Nevada mountains. She must score
an interview with Logan to land her dream job otherwise it’s back to Boston,
with no scoop and no job. It’s just business–at least that’s what she keeps
telling herself.
Logan still loves Vivi, his soul mate, but there’s
something even she doesn’t know about him: He turns into a werewolf every full
moon and a secret organization is hunting down his Pack.
Vivi may not have Logan’s senses, but she can sniff out
that he’s hiding something. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the
truth about him and his Pack is revealed.
And
then he really will lose her.
Logan is singing out his pain on stage with his band when his wolf picks up the scent of his mate.
He has loved Vivianna since they were children but he walked away from her because as a human she must never know about his kind.
Vivianna Lopez is a journalist on the trail of a story. An old friend persuades her she can get an interview with the famous rock star Logan Reynolds. He broke her hearts years ago, can she handle meeting him again?
A very exciting and emotional story. Its part of a series that should be read in order. Each book has its own story but the background events to do with the pack need to be understood. Our protagonists have a lot of history between them that makes trust a very difficult thing to find. With so much danger around the pack it's not a good time for humans to come into their world.
This is a series that is all too easy to get addicted to. I love it.
***************************************************
Chapter One
Logan
Paul jogged onstage with my Gibson. I swapped the electric guitar
for the acoustic and slid the strap over my shoulder. Amazing that I could be
sitting on a cold stool in the hot lights of a open-air college amphitheater
with five thousand screaming fans and still feel so damned alone.
I sucked in a slow breath, my fingers instinctively reaching for
that first chord. My Gibson was my focus. With her in my arms, everything else
faded away.
“I love you, Logan!”
I peered into the blinding spotlight and leaned into the mic.
“Love you, too.”
The crowd went ballistic. Tonight was my twenty-third birthday,
and I was spending it with my alt-rock band, Logan and the Howlers. We were
finally starting to see some success. Our songs climbed up iTunes charts as
fast as we could release them, and our concert venues were getting bigger
without the backing of a big record label. We were busy.
Even on my birthday.
Luke, my twin brother, was waiting somewhere in the wings. After
the show, we were going to grab a couple of beers to celebrate, and I’d paste
on a smile for my brother. For me, it was just another empty year. As my Pack
brothers each found their mates, the one woman he would ever love, the
ache for mine grew, but unlike the rest of the Pack, there was no hope of me
being with her.
I blew my chance years ago.
Pushing the memories away, I leaned on the stool while the rest of
the Howlers vanished offstage for a water break. This was my song. The crowd
erupted as I strummed the first chord. “Madness in the Moonlight” was still one
of our top selling singles, and a favorite at live performances. My pain on
display.
She haunts my dreams.
Shadows of the past.
Ripping my heart down the seams.
No one to blame but me.
I’m a lone wolf now, but I still stare up at the moon,
Call her name, and wonder if she’s looking, too…
I sat back, letting the crowd finish the chorus, wailing the anger
and rage.
Madness. Madness. Madness.
Wishing won’t change a thing.
Tell that to my fucking heart.
Welcome the pain, feel something.
Got to let her go.
Another verse, another chorus, but as I hit the key change, a
familiar scent, clean and spicy like cinnamon ignited my senses. Oh shit.
From where?
I was the only member of the Howlers who actually howled. Once a
month, the wolf in my soul came forward and I shifted my form, surrendering to
the animalistic part of my spirit. And right now the dormant wolf was clawing
toward my consciousness, no longer content to rest in the background. Even as a
man, my senses were heightened—especially my senses of smell and hearing, but
my vision didn’t suck, either.
I’d performed this song hundreds of times. My fingers found the
chords instinctively, but I almost missed my vocals, stumbling over the next
verse while I scanned the crowd. Finally I turned toward the wings.
In the shadows offstage, my brother Luke waited for me…with a
ghost from my past.
Anna.
Fuck.
I forced myself to face the crowd. This was no time to lose my
shit. What the hell was she doing here? I powered through the ending of
the song and stood to accept the cheers.
Grabbing the hand mic, I tried not to check the wings again.
“Thank you. There’s no place I’d rather be for my birthday!”
A deafening roar erupted from the crowd. “Happy Birthday, Logan”
signs waved back and forth as my bandmates came out to join me, taking the
decibel level even higher. Stryker jogged out, still shirtless, his untamed
long hair bouncing with each stride. The guy was a monster on the drums. He
raised his drumsticks while Levi, tall and slender, pumped his fist from behind
the keyboard.
Levi had a degree in music, and a knack for fleshing out
harmonies. Plus he was our de facto social media manager, saving the rest of us
from being near a computer. We loved him for that.
And finally Zane hustled out with his bass guitar on his shoulder,
waving to fans. He was the “Old Man” of the Howlers. It didn’t help that he
liked to keep his hair slicked back in a 50s pompadour.
Zane stopped next to me. “You okay, man?”
There was no way any regular guy would’ve heard it through the
roar of the audience, but I caught every word. I glanced at the wings, relieved
to see them empty. Maybe I’d imagined her.
Wishful thinking. I’d recognize her scent anywhere.
“I’m good.”
I swapped my Gibson for the electric guitar and hit a chord. The
Howlers had my back, filling the concert hall with a wall of sound, but I
couldn’t lose myself in it this time. Any movement offstage had me jumpy and
tense. This concert couldn’t be over soon enough.
…
“Night, Logan.” Zane grabbed his guitar case. “Good show, and
happy birthday.”
“Thanks, man.” I dried the sweat from the back of my neck and
tossed the towel in my bag.
Stryker was still dismantling his drum set. We could afford
roadies to do it now, but he got territorial when it came to his drums.
“Later Stryker.”
He looked up, flipping his mop of hair out of his face. “Later.
Have a birthday beer for me.”
“Will do.”
My bandmates had grown accustomed to me being on my own. It was
tough to keep secrets from people you care about, so I kept my distance.
I hit the exit, and her scent assaulted me. Luke sat on the bumper
of my pickup with Anna standing beside him. Their conversation halted as I came
closer. As impossible as it seemed, she was sexier than I remembered, her
curves more pronounced in her tight black dress.
Something inside me came unglued. The wolf howled, filling the
empty space in my chest where my heart should have been.
Luke hopped off the bumper. He kept his dark hair shorter than I
did, and working outside on the horse ranch made his skin a little more tan
than mine. But he wasn’t wearing his faded ranch clothes now. He looked sharp
in his black denim and white T-shirt, trying to impress a ghost from my past.
My eyes narrowed on my brother. “I didn’t know we were bringing
dates.”
He frowned, draping his arm around her shoulder. “Oh, come on.
Vivi’s like family. Did you know she’s staying up in Lake Tahoe right now?”
No, I didn’t know. She haunted every dream, every quiet moment.
Her face fueled my muse.
And if he didn’t stop touching her, I’d go out of my fucking mind.
“Hey Logan.”
Her voice was deep, rich and smooth like melted chocolate. She had
dark eyes that used to see all the way into my soul. Could she see how empty I
was inside now?
I swallowed the lump in my throat and did my best to sound
flippant. “I didn’t know you were a fan of the Howlers, Anna.”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Her brown eyes flashed.
She shook her head and took a step back. “It’s Vivi or Vivianna.”
Not to me.
Her heart was pounding. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to
hurt her.
Too fucking bad.
She brushed her hair over her shoulder. “And I’m not a fan. I was
here for work.”
I needed to touch her. Clenching my fists, I fought the desire.
I’d never be strong enough to walk away again. She needed to leave me.
Now.
“Were you selling merch?”
Her brow furrowed, her jaw dropping a little. “Seriously?” She
shook her head. “Thanks for reminding me what an asshole you are.”
“Good to see you, too. I’m going to get a beer.” I pinned my
brother with a stare. “I’ll meet you at Lou’s.”
Without waiting for an answer, I put my guitar in the cab. I
should’ve gotten in and driven away, but I turned back one last time.
Anna grabbed Luke’s hand. My brother turned toward her, and
bitterness burned my stomach. Maybe they were on a damn date. The light
from the streetlamp glistened on her long black hair, teasing me. Every angle
of her face tempted me. I hadn’t spoken to her in just over five years, but my
hunger for her hadn’t faded. Far from it.
“Happy Birthday, Logan.” My name sounded cold on her lips, like a
dagger in my chest.
What could I say? I broke her heart, but I’d do it all over again
if it meant her dreams would come true. Our futures were always headed in
opposite directions. I made the right choice.
It took every ounce of my will to get in my truck. I slammed the
door and drove away. Longest damned drive to Lou’s in my life.
The dive bar was dimly lit, with a pool table in the far corner.
The juke box blared “Hotel California” while I nursed my second whiskey, neat.
I sat on a stool in the shadows at the end of the counter. The last thing I was
in the mood for was some drunk chick to recognize me. A few years ago, I tried
to drown my sorrows in fast women and band groupies, but nothing filled the
void Anna left behind.
No amount of no-strings-attached sex was ever going to hold a
candle to making love to her. Ever.
My brother finally walked through the door. I held my breath, but
it didn’t open again. Anna wasn’t with him. The only trace of her was her scent
on his fucking shirt.
“Hey, Logan.” We clasped forearms, the traditional Pack greeting.
“Happy Birthday.”
“Yeah. You, too.”
He glanced at my glass. “Moved on from birthday beer, huh?” He
took the stool next to me. “What the hell happened back there with Vivi? I
thought you’d be happy to see her.”
I growled, downing the last of my whiskey. “I don’t want to talk
about it.”
He ordered a beer then turned my way. “She’s been staying up at
Lake Tahoe with a college friend. I ran into her a couple weeks ago. She’s
never seen you in concert…” He shrugged. “I thought it would be fun.”
Maybe it was her scent on his shirt, or the way she held his hand
as I drove away, but I caught his wrist before I realized what I was doing. My
grip tightened like a vise. “You can have any woman in the world. Not. Her.”
My final words were more animal than man. Luke’s eyes widened, and
I let go of him, dragging a shaky hand back through my hair. My wolf was
dangerously close to the surface, and the full moon was still two weeks away.
“First, we’re just friends, and second, I hate to break it to you,
but you don’t get to call the shots here.” Luke leaned in close. “You dumped
her and never even told her why. She waited for you in her prom dress. You
humiliated her.”
“I was there. I remember.”
He groaned. “She hates you.”
“She should.” My voice cracked as I signaled for another drink.
Anything to kill the ache inside.
“Okay, then why threaten me about seeing her?”
I met his eyes, staring at my mirror image. “Because she’s my
mate.”
His jaw slackened for a second as my words sank in. I wasn’t sure
how I expected him to react, but shoving me back into the bar wasn’t it.
“You selfish prick.” He shook his head and lowered his voice. “How
could you not tell me?”
“What was I going to say?” I took a swallow of my drink. “Anna is
my mate, but we’re too young? It’s complicated?”
“It could have been that simple.” He shook his head. “But you
didn’t trust me to understand.” He slammed his hand on the bar. “Our whole Pack
blew off the stories of one mate for life. You knew it was true all this time,
and you never said anything.”
“You don’t understand.”
“So help me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it was none of your damned business.” I pushed the glass
away. It wasn’t helping anyway. “It was between me and Anna.”
“And five years later, she’s still clueless. You never told her,
either.”
I dug inside the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a few bills.
Slapping them on the bar, I glared at my brother. “I’m not doing this
here.”
He caught my arm. “Logan.”
I sighed and met his eyes. “Yeah.”
“If she’s your mate, then she’s the only one for you.” A crease
formed on his brow as he lowered his voice. “You’re choosing to be alone…forever?”
My gut twisted. “I loved her. I still do. So I’m walking away.” I
yanked free from his grasp. “Just do me a favor and stay out of it. And stay
away from her. The sooner she gets out of town, the better.”
He glanced at his boots, shaking his head. “Good luck with that.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s got a chance for a staff job at Rolling Stone. Her
dream job.” The bartender set Luke’s beer on the bar. He took a swig and tried
not to smile. “That’s why she came west to stay with her friend. She’s here to
be the first to get an interview with reclusive indie rocker, Logan Reynolds,
from Logan and the Howlers.”
Aw fuck.
Lisa Kessler is an award winning author of dark
paranormal fiction. Her debut novel, Night Walker, won a San Diego Book Award
for Best Published FantasyScifiHorror as well as the Romance Through the
Ages Award for Best Paranormal and Best First Book.
Her short stories have been
published in print anthologies and magazines, and her vampire story, Immortal
Beloved, was a finalist for a Bram Stoker award.
When she's not writing, Lisa is a professional vocalist,
performing with the San Diego Opera as well as other musical theater companies
in San Diego.
Lisa Kessler is an award winning author of dark paranormal fiction. Her debut novel, Night Walker, won a San Diego Book Award for Best Published Fantasy-Sci-fi-Horror as well as the Romance Through the Ages Award for Best Paranormal and Best First Book.
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