The Red Valley pack prided itself on tradition, clichés, and more soap-opera-level drama than any human telenovela. Every wolf had a designation, every mate pairing was neatly categorized, and every pack scandal was archived in at least three journals (some handwritten, some suspiciously glittered). Enter Lisa and Mia, the anomaly that threatened to ruin decades of orderly chaos. Lisa was an albino werewolf—ghostly white in both human and wolf forms—an alpha with the kind of commanding presence that could stop a fight mid-pounce and make everyone second-guess their life choices. Then there was Mia, her mate, dark as midnight, beta to a fault, and secretly a little thrilled by being the yin to Lisa’s blindingly bright yang. Yes, an alpha mated to a beta. Pack whispers sounded like thunderclaps. Some speculated a full moon miracle; others muttered about moon-induced insanity. Either way, the pair strutted through Red Valley like they owned it in matching leather jackets and wolf ears that refused to stay perky. Their dynamic? Fierce, loving, and absolutely rules-defying. But Lisa and Mia were not here to play by anyone’s handbook. No, they were hunting—metaphorically and literally—for a third, someone bold enough to step into their chaotic duo and complete their trio. Omegas? Nice try. Drama? Absolutely not. Their potential third needed to appreciate that Lisa could turn a darkened forest into a spotlight stage while Mia provided sarcastic commentary, occasional eye-rolls, and the kind of warmth that made even the frostiest alpha blush. Together, they were a walking, howling, eye-roll-inducing contradiction. Lisa, light as snow, Mia, dark as night, and the mysterious stranger who would someday join them—Red Valley had never seen anything like it, and the pack would never recover.

The Red Valley werewolf pack prides itself on tradition. Ancient law. Sacred hierarchy. The delicate social structure of alphas, betas, and omegas that every dramatic romance novel insists is vital to wolf society. And then there are Callie and Mindy. Both are alphas. Which, according to every dusty pack law and overly dramatic werewolf romance ever written, is not supposed to work. Two alphas together? Impossible. A dominance battle waiting to happen. Instead, Red Valley got the most intimidatingly functional power couple the pack has ever seen. Callie is the cougar—literally. A blonde, golden-eyed werecougar with effortless feline grace. She moves like a runway model and lounges like she owns every room she enters. Calm, confident, and slightly smug, Callie carries the quiet authority of a predator who knows she sits comfortably at the top of the food chain. Mindy, on the other hand, is the storm. A dark-skinned werewolf alpha with a sharp smile and a sharper tongue, Mindy has zero patience for pack politics, outdated traditions, or anyone dumb enough to challenge her mate. She’s loud where Callie is smooth, blunt where Callie is sly, and together they balance each other in a way that makes the rest of Red Valley deeply uncomfortable. Mostly because it works. Extremely well. The two fiery, middle-aged alphas run half the pack operations, and intimidate the other half. Naturally, there’s gossip. Because being mated alphas wasn’t scandal enough, Callie and Mindy recently announced they’re looking for a third. Not a subordinate. Not a follower. An equal partner. The pack council nearly fainted. The younger wolves are fascinated. The gossiping betas are taking notes. Meanwhile Callie lounges with a satisfied smile while Mindy scans the crowd like a wolf at a buffet. Red Valley may follow every omegaverse cliché in existence. But Callie and Mindy? They prefer breaking them. 🐺🐆🔥

Welcome to Red Valley, home of the most aggressively cliché werewolf pack in North America. If you have ever read a paranormal romance novel, a questionable fanfic at 2 a.m., or a paperback with a shirtless man on the cover clutching a wolf, then congratulations—you already understand 90% of how Red Valley operates. Omegas faint in doorways while clutching their delicate wrists. Destiny, fate, and “the bond” are mentioned approximately every five minutes. It is exhausting. And then there’s Darnell. Darnell is technically the pack’s omega, which—according to Red Valley tradition—means he’s supposed to be fragile, dramatic, and constantly in need of protection. Darnell is none of those things. He’s practical, sarcastic, and has the deeply inconvenient habit of telling dramatic alphas to stop monologuing and go touch grass. His mate, Victor, is a beta in the calmest, most unbothered sense of the word. Middle-aged, broad-shouldered, annoyingly handsome, and entirely uninterested in pack politics, Victor treats the Red Valley hierarchy the way one might treat a reality show: mildly entertaining, occasionally ridiculous, and absolutely not something worth getting emotionally invested in. The two of them have been a mated pair for years, living in a comfortable house at the edge of pack territory where the dramatic howling from the alphas sounds pleasantly distant. They stay in Red Valley mostly for the entertainment value. Where else could you watch three different alphas argue about “dominance energy” while someone dramatically collapses onto a fainting couch? But despite being perfectly happy together, Darnell and Victor have come to one unavoidable conclusion. They don’t need an alpha. They don’t want pack drama. What they do want… is a third. Someone who can handle sarcasm, ignore the nonsense of Red Valley, and survive dinner with two werewolves who treat pack politics like a comedy show.

Are you helplessly and hopelessly entrenched in paranormal romance? Have humans become a little too… alive for your tastes? Welcome to Monster Love! The latest and greatest technology dedicated to helping you meet your future supernatural soulmate! Swipe left or right and discover the creature of your dreams! Today’s eligible bachelor is Bartholomew, a vampire whose survival over several centuries is considered a medical mystery. Why? Because he’s allergic to sunlight, garlic, and Type A blood. Sunlight is understandable. Garlic is unfortunate. Type A blood, however, is one of the most common blood types on Earth, turning every meal into a high-stakes guessing game. Bartholomew describes himself as dark, mysterious, and eternally youthful. His friends describe him as “the reason warning labels exist.” You may notice his profile picture appears to be a stick figure drawn during a particularly stressful kindergarten art class. This is intentional. As a vampire, Bartholomew doesn’t appear in photographs, mirrors, security cameras, webcams, or anything else designed to capture an image. After years of uploading pictures that looked like empty hallways, he finally took matters into his own hands and drew himself. The stick figure is wearing a cape. He insists the cape is important. Despite his limitations, Bartholomew remains surprisingly optimistic. He enjoys moonlit walks, dramatic sighing, collecting antique furniture, and complaining that modern castles have “no character.” He has spent the last two hundred years trying to understand why humans willingly watch horror movies. Seeking: Someone patient, understanding, and preferably not carrying garlic bread. Must be comfortable scheduling dates after sunset and not asking him to “just stand in the sun for a minute.” Will your love be immortal? Or will it end when he accidentally orders the wrong blood type? There’s only one way to find out. Swipe right.

Are you helplessly and irrevocably entrenched in paranormal romance? Have humans simply stopped doing it for you? Welcome to Monster Love™! The latest and greatest technology designed to help you find your perfect paranormal partner! Swipe left! Swipe right! Today's featured bachelor is... Crag! Before we continue, a few important disclosures. Crag is an orc. Crag is not especially intelligent. And Crag did not make this profile. His vampire best friend signed him up after deciding that "meeting people" would be healthier than spending every evening wrestling bears and shouting at rocks. Unfortunately, Crag doesn't fully understand how dating apps work. When we explained that users swipe right on profiles they like, he immediately smashed the phone into the wall on his right. After receiving a replacement phone and a more detailed explanation, he nodded confidently and swiped right by punching the device with his right fist hard enough to reduce it to expensive glitter. We are currently on phone number six. Despite these challenges, Crag has many positive qualities. He's loyal, brave, and incredibly strong. He once carried an entire wagon out of a mud pit because he couldn't figure out how the wheels worked. He's surprisingly good with animals, though most experts believe this is because they're too frightened to argue with him. His hobbies include lifting heavy things, eating alarming amounts of meat, and accidentally breaking furniture. When asked what he wanted in a partner, Crag thought for several minutes before answering: "Can survive." Further questioning produced no additional requirements. So if you've ever dreamed of dating a massive green sweetheart with muscles bigger than his vocabulary and a heart bigger than his muscles, Crag might be the monster for you. Please note: Monster Love™ is not responsible for broken phones, damaged property, accidental concussions, or courtship rituals involving thrown boulders.

Among werewolf packs, traditions are sacred. The Rising Sun Pack, however, has never cared much about tradition. While most werewolves form mated pairs, the Rising Sun insists that proper families come in trios. Every pack member is expected to find two mates. Every member except Stella. Stella is an Alpha. More importantly, Stella knows she’s an Alpha. In fact, Stella is convinced she’s more important than everyone else in the pack combined. None of the available werewolves were good enough for her, so she decided to seek a mate elsewhere. Specifically, one of the world’s legendary cryptids. The Mothman. If no werewolf was worthy of her, surely a mysterious supernatural legend would be. The plan immediately fell apart. First, Mothman was real. Second, Mothman was a woman. Third, Mothman was Luna. Rather than a terrifying harbinger of doom, Luna was a giant moth cryptid who preferred collecting shiny objects and avoiding attention. When an overly confident werewolf suddenly appeared claiming they should be mates, Luna reacted with understandable panic. What followed involved shouting, cursing, a ruined barn, several damaged trees, and acrobatics neither of them can properly explain. By the end of the chaos, however, something unexpected happened. They actually liked each other. Against all logic, Stella and Luna became mates. Now they face a challenge far greater than accidentally demolishing half the countryside. Finding a third. Unfortunately, Stella interviews potential partners like a queen selecting royal servants, while Luna gets distracted by shiny objects halfway through every conversation. Somewhere out there is the final member of their trio. Hopefully they’re patient. Because they’re about to become part of the strangest family in the supernatural world.

Are you helplessly addicted to paranormal romance? Then welcome to Monster Love™! The latest breakthrough in questionable life choices and supernatural matchmaking technology! Our patented swipe system helps you find the monster of your dreams, nightmares, or both! Simply swipe left, swipe right, and ignore the increasingly concerned messages from your friends and family! Today’s featured match: Sateen! Before we continue, we have one very important question. Are you afraid of snakes? No? Excellent. Because Sateen is one. Well… half of one. Technically she’s a naga, which means from the waist up she’s a stunning woman blessed with exotic beauty, captivating eyes, and enough charm to make your heart skip several beats. From the waist down? Snake. A lot of snake. Enough snake that measuring her height becomes less of a statistic and more of a geological survey. Sateen is elegant, intelligent, and surprisingly affectionate once she decides she likes you. She enjoys moonlit walks, warm weather, shiny jewelry, and watching people panic when she silently appears behind them. Not because she’s cruel, mind you. She simply finds the reaction hilarious. Potential partners should be aware that Sateen expresses affection physically. This may include hugs, cuddles, gentle tail wraps, and occasionally using several hundred pounds of constrictor muscle to keep you from leaving a conversation before she’s finished making her point. Don’t worry. Probably. She insists she’s never accidentally crushed anyone she cared about. The emphasis is on “accidentally.” Still interested? Good. Because Sateen has already noticed you staring. And unlike you, she doesn’t need a dating app to find her prey. …Partner. We meant partner. Monster Love™ is not responsible for missing pets, unexplained bite marks, spontaneous scales, or engagements made under hypnotic eye contact. Now go ahead. Swipe right. She certainly has.

The Rising Sun werewolf pack has always done things a little differently. While most packs form lifelong mated pairs, the Rising Sun tradition centers around trios. Sue never cared much what outsiders thought. As one of the pack’s Alphas, she was respected, feared, admired, and occasionally monitored for public safety reasons. She was everything a werewolf leader should be: strong, confident, fiercely protective, and capable of staring down hostile supernatural creatures without blinking. And just a little bit crazy. The exact amount depended on who you asked. Most people considered rumors of a mysterious blood-drinking creature lurking in the Puerto Rican countryside to be nothing more than folklore. Sue immediately booked a flight. After all, this was the same woman who once attempted to negotiate a peace treaty with a tornado because she felt it “looked misunderstood.” The legendary chupacabra proved to be very real. Her name was Chichi. Chichi was smaller than the terrifying monster described in stories, but considerably more dangerous. Covered in dark fur, lined with sharp spines, and equipped with enough teeth to make a shark uncomfortable, she had spent years avoiding hunters, tourists, and anyone foolish enough to wander too close. When Sue finally found her, the encounter lasted approximately seven seconds. The first three seconds were spent staring. The next two involved Chichi trying to determine whether this strange giant wolf woman was food. The final two ended with Chichi biting Sue on the arm. For Sue, it was love at first sight. For Chichi, it was confusion at first bite. Neither reaction was particularly normal. Which, in hindsight, made them absolutely perfect for each other. The Rising Sun pack would later describe the relationship as fate. Chichi would describe it as a series of increasingly questionable life choices. Sue proudly described it as the best vacation she’d ever taken.

The world of Zenora is dying.Humanity’s kingdoms have fallen one by one beneath endless tides of monsters, predators, and ancient horrors. Cities lie in ruins. Roads have vanished beneath claw and fang. The age of man is nearing its end. Only Astonia remains. Hidden high within the mountains, the last kingdom of humanity clings to survival. Twenty-five thousand souls stand against a world determined to destroy them. Their greatest strength is an alliance forged in blood and necessity—an unbreakable bond between dragon and rider. Yet not every dragon welcomes that bond. Balerion once did. Sixty years ago, he believed every bondmate was chosen by fate. He believed courage could overcome fear and that determination could conquer any hardship. Five times he opened his heart to a human rider. Five times he watched them die. Some fell in battle. Others were consumed by the strain of the bond itself. None lived long enough. Each death left a wound deeper than any blade. The first brought grief. The second brought despair. By the fifth, there was nothing left to break. Now Balerion endures. He serves because Astonia needs dragons. He bonds because humanity cannot survive without them. But hope is something he buried long ago. When young candidates approach with dreams of heroism in their eyes, he sees only another name carved into stone. Too naïve. Too inexperienced. Too weak. No rider survives forever, but Balerion has learned that many never should have been chosen at all. So he has hardened himself. Yet despite every wall he has built around his heart, the call returns. The pull. The ancient force that binds dragon and human together is stirring once again. Somewhere within Astonia, a new bondmate waits. Balerion feels their presence growing stronger with every passing day. And for the first time in years, he is afraid. Not of losing another rider. But of hoping this one might finally live

In the world of Zenora, humanity stands upon the edge of extinction. The once-proud kingdoms of man have been swallowed by fang, claw, and darkness. Only one refuge remains. High within the frozen peaks of Astonia, twenty-five thousand souls cling to survival behind towering stone walls. It is the last kingdom of man. Yet humanity does not stand alone. In an age of desperation, dragons and humans forged an alliance unlike any before it. Through an ancient bond, dragon and rider become one in purpose, sharing thoughts, emotions, and a destiny that neither could face alone. Among these bonded pairs, none are stranger than Sarah and Drakmor. Sarah was only five years old when she formed her bond, making her the youngest rider in recent memory. Many believed it was a miracle. Others feared it was an omen. Those fears only grew when her bond mate emerged. Drakmor was not a dragon. He was a dragonette. Small enough to perch comfortably upon Sarah’s shoulder, Drakmor looked more like a mischievous pet than one of the legendary beasts that guarded humanity. Three decades later, little has changed. At thirty-five, Sarah still carries him as effortlessly as she did when she was a child. That appearance has proven fatal for countless enemies. Drakmor possesses all the pride, arrogance, and fiery temper of a full-grown dragon packed into a body a fraction of the size. While larger dragons shake mountains with their fury, Drakmor prefers subtler methods. Missing supplies. Sabotaged camps. Guards found unconscious without explanation. Explosions that seem to come from nowhere. His destruction arrives quietly, often unnoticed until it is far too late. Together, Sarah and Drakmor have survived thirty years of war against a world determined to erase mankind. They are not the strongest defenders of Astonia. They are not the largest. They are simply the pair that darkness has learned to fear whenever it hears a tiny set of wings approaching from the shadows.

Among werewolves, the Rising Sun Pack has a reputation for being a little unusual. Actually, “a little unusual” is what polite outsiders say before quietly backing away. While most werewolf packs form lifelong bonds between pairs, the Rising Sun Pack insists that proper mates come in trios. Emily, unfortunately, was nowhere close to worrying about mates. As a beta wolf, she occupied the very bottom rung of pack society. She wasn’t important, powerful, feared, respected, or even particularly memorable. Her life consisted mostly of paperwork, errands, and being volunteered for jobs no one else wanted. If something went wrong, it was probably Emily’s problem. Naturally, she decided she deserved a vacation. Which is how she found herself in the Scottish Highlands. Specifically, at Loch Ness. Specifically, in the water. Specifically, making what would later be described by several witnesses as “a series of increasingly poor decisions.” Emily had always heard the stories about the Loch Ness Monster. She assumed, like most tourists, that Nessie was either a myth, a fish, or an unusually ambitious log. She was wrong on all three counts. What Emily discovered was that Nessa was very real, very ancient, very intelligent, and apparently very interested in the confused werewolf currently splashing around her lake. One unexpected swim, one accidental magical bond, and one extremely awkward conversation later, Emily found herself mated to the actual Loch Ness Monster. The situation raised several questions . Could a lake monster legally join a werewolf pack? Did trios still count if one member was a prehistoric aquatic cryptid? Most importantly, why did Nessa seem delighted by all of it? Together, Emily and Nessa are about to test the limits of werewolf tradition, cryptid patience, and common sense itself. The Highlands may never recover.

While most werewolves formed mated pairs, the Rising Sun Pack believed destiny worked best in groups of three.  Meet Zora. An omega through and through, Zora possessed all the traditional omega instincts. She built nests. She collected blankets with alarming dedication. Most importantly, she was incapable of minding her own business. That final trait was what led her into a remote mountain cave one rainy afternoon. The elders said strange things lived there. Zora naturally decided she needed to investigate. Deep inside the cavern she discovered a creature of legend. Massive. Towering. Covered head to toe in fur. Bigfoot. Most sensible people would have panicked. Zora’s first thought was different. She’s fluffy. Her second thought was even worse. She’s mine. The legendary cryptid known across countless campfire stories was actually Beth. Beth spent her days avoiding tourists, hiding from conspiracy theorists, and occasionally throwing idiots into nearby rock formations. The last person who called her Bigfoot to her face had been embedded in a cave wall hard enough to leave a silhouette. Yet somehow, when the tiny omega marched up to her, offered a sandwich, and asked if she wanted to be friends, Beth couldn’t stop herself from laughing. Zora was ridiculous. Adorable. Completely fearless. Beth decided to keep her. Months later, they were effectively mates despite never completing the traditional mating bite. Nobody was entirely sure how it happened. Zora simply started showing up every day until Beth got used to her presence. At some point they became inseparable. Now they faced a new challenge. By Rising Sun tradition, every pair needed a third. Somewhere out there was the final member of their future trio. Hopefully someone who didn’t mind finding fur absolutely everywhere. Because dating an omega was one thing. Dating an omega and a seven-foot cryptid was a whole different adventure.

In the dying world of Zenora, humanity survives behind the mountain walls of Astonia, the last kingdom of man. Beyond its gates, monstrous beasts roam the wilderness, ancient predators rule the skies, and every year humanity’s grip on survival grows weaker. Among Astonia’s dragon riders, few names inspire more admiration than Delilah and Granok. Their bond began with two souls the world had already underestimated. Delilah was born blind. In a kingdom where survival often depends on strength and skill, many believed she would never amount to more than a burden. Yet years without sight sharpened her other senses beyond imagination. She learned to recognize people by their footsteps, navigate the fortress from memory, and sense emotions hidden within a voice. Compassionate, determined, and unshakably resilient, she refused to allow others to define her future. Granok is one of the oldest dragons still alive. His golden scales bear the scars of centuries of war, and his wisdom has been forged through countless battles. Time eventually claimed his sight, leaving both eyes clouded and blind.Patient, thoughtful, and immensely powerful, he learned to rely on instincts and experience rather than vision. When Granok chose Delilah as his rider, Astonia was stunned. A blind dragon and a blind rider seemed an impossible pairing. Instead, they became one of the kingdom’s greatest strengths. Together they navigate the world with extraordinary precision. Delilah’s instincts, intelligence, and understanding of people complement Granok’s ancient wisdom and heightened senses. Where others see darkness, they find clarity. Where others see weakness, they discover strength. Now they stand as symbols of hope throughout Astonia. Their partnership reminds humanity that greatness is not defined by perfection, but by perseverance. In a world filled with fear, loss, and impossible odds, Delilah and Granok prove that even those overlooked by society can rise to become legends.

In the dying world of Zenora, humanity stands on the edge of extinction. The great kingdoms of man have fallen, their cities reduced to ruins claimed by beasts and monsters. High in the mountains of Astonia, the last human stronghold endures. Twenty-five thousand souls remain, protected by stone walls, courage, and the dragons who chose to fight beside them. The bond between rider and dragon is sacred, forged once and lasting for life. Hope dreamed of that bond since she was five years old. She trained for it, waited for it, and watched as others were chosen while she remained alone. As the years passed and childhood gave way to adulthood, Hope slowly accepted the painful possibility that no dragon would ever choose her. Then a roar shook Astonia. A wounded dragoness fell from the storm-dark sky, crashing into the mountains below. Days later, Hope heard faint chirping deep within a cave. Following the sound, she discovered a hidden nest. Inside were two starving hatchlings, twins left alone in the darkness. The first was Daz, a stubborn young male whose spirit already seemed too large for his tiny body. Beside him was Nera, his sister, quieter but sharp-eyed and fearless. Their mother was gone. Without help, they would not survive. The moment Hope reached for them, a bond formed. Not the bond of rider and dragon. Something different. Something stronger. The hatchlings immediately trusted her, pressing against her for warmth and comfort. In that instant, Hope realized her dream had never truly been denied. It had simply taken another form. She had spent her life waiting to become a dragon rider. Instead, she became a dragon mother. Now Hope must raise two dragons in a world that wants both their species dead. As Daz and Nera grow larger and stronger with each passing year, the fate of Astonia may rest upon a woman who chose to answer the cries of two orphaned hatchlings in the dark.

In the world of Zenora, the kingdom of man has nearly fallen. A single stronghold remains. Hidden within the mountains of Astonia, the last city of humanity clings to survival. Twenty-five thousand souls stand against a world filled with beasts, monsters, and ancient horrors that would gladly see mankind wiped from existence. To endure, humanity forged an alliance once thought impossible. Dragons. Through a sacred bond, dragon and rider become one in purpose. Their thoughts intertwine, their strengths merge, and together they fight against the darkness consuming the world. Most dragons eventually answer the Calling that leads them to their destined human partner. Azra refuses. An albino dragoness with gleaming white scales and crimson eyes, Azra has always stood apart from her kind. Powerful, proud, and stubborn beyond reason, she views humans with little more than amused contempt. They are small. Fragile. Short-lived. She can cross mountains in a single flight and tear through stone with her claws. Why would she bind herself to a creature that could fit beneath one wing? While dragons younger than her accepted riders and forged legendary partnerships, Azra remained alone. But the Calling cannot be silenced forever. With each passing year it grows stronger. What was once a distant whisper has become a constant presence in the back of her thoughts, tugging at her mind whenever she flies above Astonia’s walls. Somewhere among the humans walks the soul meant to bond with her. A rider she has never met. A destiny she has spent years running from. Yet the world grows darker with every season. The enemies gathering beyond the mountains are becoming stronger, and even dragons are no longer beyond their reach. Soon Azra will have to make a choice. Remain alone and cling to her pride. Or answer the Calling she has spent her life denying and place her trust in one of the tiny, worthless humans she swore she would never need.

The world of Zenora belonged to monsters. Humanity’s kingdoms had fallen one by one until only Astonia remained—a fortress carved into the mountains and home to the last twenty-five thousand humans alive. Surrounded by beasts that would gladly wipe them from existence, mankind survived through an ancient alliance with dragons. Rider and dragon. Human and beast. Bound together by magic stronger than blood and stronger than death. Every child dreamed of being chosen. Neveah spent nearly twenty years waiting. She watched younger riders form bonds while she remained behind. Friends flew into battle and earned glory while she endured whispers and pitying looks. As the years passed, she began to believe what others quietly thought: that no dragon would ever choose her. Then, when she had almost given up hope, a dragon finally did. Armok. Young, powerful, and completely insufferable. Armok possessed enough confidence for an entire flight of dragons. He boasted constantly, challenged dragons older than himself, and treated every mission like a stage built to showcase his greatness. According to Armok, becoming the greatest dragon in Zenora’s history was not a possibility—it was destiny. Unfortunately for Neveah, their bond allowed her to hear every arrogant thought. The first week she questioned her luck. The second week she questioned her sanity. She had spent two decades praying for a dragon. Now she found herself wishing for a quieter one. Yet beneath Armok’s endless ego, Neveah sensed cracks. Fear hidden behind pride. Doubt buried beneath confidence. For all his boasting, Armok seemed desperate to prove himself worthy of the legend he claimed he would become. As dark rumors spread beyond Astonia’s walls and ever-greater horrors emerged from the wilderness, humanity’s final refuge stood on the brink of destruction. The fate of the last kingdom might depend on a rider who had waited too long and a dragon who believed he could never fail.

The world of Zenora was dying. Humanity had once ruled vast kingdoms of fertile valleys, mighty rivers, and shining cities. Now those lands belonged to monsters. Kingdom after kingdom had fallen until only one refuge was left. High in the mountains of Astonia stood humanity’s final stronghold. Behind its stone walls lived barely twenty-five thousand souls—the last survivors of a race facing extinction. Every day survived was a victory. Yet mankind did not stand alone. When darkness threatened to consume the world, dragons forged an alliance with humanity. Ancient rulers of the skies chose to fight beside mortals rather than watch Zenora fall. Together they formed an unbreakable bond. Dragon and rider. Beast and human. Two lives joined in a war for survival. Among those chosen was Kallen. Scarred by loss and hardened by endless battles, he had long ago abandoned dreams of glory. He fought because there was no other choice. Every flight beyond Astonia’s walls carried the risk of death. Every mission meant facing creatures capable of tearing armies apart. Then Amira chose him. The dragoness was a creature of terrible beauty. Her dark scales gleamed like polished obsidian, and her golden eyes held centuries of wisdom and fire. Proud, relentless, and fiercely protective, she possessed the strength to shatter monsters and the will to challenge fate itself. Together they became one of Astonia’s deadliest weapons. They soared above ruined kingdoms and monster-haunted wilderness, striking where the enemy gathered strongest. To the people below, they were a symbol that humanity still endured. To the beasts of Zenora, they were death descending from the clouds. The world was ending. The kingdom of man had fallen. Darkness pressed against Astonia’s gates with every passing year. But as long as Kallen rode upon Amira’s back and her wings still carried them through the storm-filled skies, humanity’s final flame would not go quietly into the dark.

While most packs insist mates come in pairs, Rising Sun firmly believes the correct number is three. Maeve, one of the pack’s alphas, is usually the perfect example of courage. She’s fought rogue wolves, faced down bears, and charged into danger without hesitation. Most of the time, she’s brave to the point of recklessness. Most of the time. Spiders are a different story. A tiny house spider can send the fearless alpha running for the hills. She won’t squish them, won’t trap them, and definitely won’t get close enough to remove them. Her packmates have learned that if Maeve starts screaming, there’s a good chance an eight-legged menace is involved. Then came the day she finally found her courage. A local pet tarantula had escaped and wandered directly into her path. The enormous spider stopped and stared at her. Maeve stared back. For once, she refused to run. “No,” she said. “Not today.” Armed with nothing but determination and a flip-flop, she raised her weapon and brought it down with all her might. The tarantula immediately transformed into a woman. A woman named Allie. A woman who had just been smacked squarely in the forehead by a sandal. The silence that followed was painful. For Maeve emotionally. For Allie physically. Turns out tarantula shapeshifters are real, and Allie had been enjoying a quiet walk when she was abruptly introduced to Maeve’s footwear. Against all logic, it was love at first shoe-smashing. Today, the two are happily mated. Allie finds Maeve’s spider phobia hilarious. Maeve insists Allie is the only spider she likes and maintains a strict “all other spiders are evil” policy. Now they’re searching for their third mate: someone kind, adventurous, and capable of handling a relationship born from accidental head smack with beachwear. And preferably someone without agoraphobia. The household already contains one irrational fear. Adding another seems excessive.

The Rising Sun werewolf pack believed mates came in trios. Riley, an alpha with endless confidence and very little self-restraint, fully embraced that philosophy. One mate? Pfft. Two mates? Pfft. Three mates? Now you’re thinking properly. Four mates? Now that’s a worthy goal. Her first mate was Leah, a powerful orc warrior whose muscles could intimidate entire hunting parties. Practical and dependable, Leah had somehow become the household’s voice of reason. Unfortunately, this mostly involved saying things like, “No, Riley, we cannot adopt the haunted goose.” Her second mate was Zoe, a naga scholar whose intelligence was matched only by her sarcasm. Zoe could decipher ancient texts, solve magical riddles, and explain exactly why Riley’s latest idea was terrible. This never stopped Riley from trying it anyway. The trio somehow made life work. Leah handled physical problems. Zoe handled intellectual problems. Riley created most of the problems. Their home was comfortable, their relationship was strong, and disasters only occurred on an occasional basis. For most people, that would have been enough. Not Riley. While others looked at a happy relationship and thought, “Perfect.” Riley looked at it and thought, “You know what this needs? Another mate.” Leah argued they already had enough chaos. Zoe pointed out that feeding three people was expensive enough. Riley ignored both objections with the determination of someone who had never allowed common sense to interfere with her ambitions. And so began her newest quest. Not defeating monsters. Not conquering rival packs. Not uncovering ancient magic. Finding Mate Number Four. According to Leah and Zoe, this was a terrible idea. According to Riley, those were usually her best ideas. The fact that her previous “best ideas” had involved explosions, curses, and one very angry goose was, in her opinion, completely irrelevant.

The Rising Sun werewolf pack is known for customs that don’t quite mesh with the rest of werewolf society. Most packs form mated pairs. Rising Sun forms trios. For Hazel, that system is probably a good thing. It means there will eventually be a third person around to help manage the chaos she creates. Hazel is an omega wolf with many talents and absolutely no moral compass. While in wolf form, she routinely steals from humans. Purses, watches, jewelry, picnic baskets—if it’s expensive or amusing, it’s probably ending up in her collection. In her defense, who’s going to call the police and claim a wolf stole their purse? As it turns out, quite a lot of people. Which creates a small problem. Because many of those reports end up on the desk of Officer Aria Bennett. Aria is human. Entirely, stubbornly human. She is also Hazel’s mate. Every week, Aria fields complaints about a suspicious wolf running off with luxury items. Every week, she investigates. Every week, she discovers the culprit is exactly who she thought it was. Again. She knows where the stolen goods are hidden. She knows Hazel isn’t sorry. She knows the wolf considers successful theft a competitive sport. The issue is that Aria’s outrage tends to weaken whenever Hazel shows up with a gift. Aria would like everyone to know she strongly disapproves of criminal activity. She would also like everyone to stop asking where she got her designer handbag. Despite their differences, the two adore each other. Hazel loves pushing boundaries, and Aria somehow manages to keep her mostly out of jail. Mostly. Together they’re a walking conflict of interest: a shameless werewolf thief and the police officer assigned to investigate her crimes. Somewhere out there is a future third mate destined to join their relationship. That poor soul has no idea they’re about to become part of a romance, a supernatural family, and an ongoing criminal investigation all at the same time.

Mates, according to Rising Sun custom, come in trios. Anthony had always assumed this would be difficult. Mostly because Anthony was Anthony. As an omega wolf, he possessed a flair for the dramatic that could turn ordering coffee into a five-act tragedy. By night, he transformed into Feronica, drag queen extraordinaire. The stage name admittedly needed work. Anthony had been informed of this repeatedly. Unfortunately, the universe seemed less concerned with his branding problems and more interested in creating chaos. Enter Weston. Weston is a dragon. A real dragon. The scales, the wings, the hoarding tendencies—completely authentic. Their first meeting should have been romantic. Instead, Weston saw Anthony performing in full drag, covered in glitter, sequins, rhinestones, and enough gold fabric to blind a small village. Weston’s dragon instincts immediately reached a logical conclusion. Treasure. To this day, Weston maintains that attempting to scoop Anthony into his jaws was an honest mistake. “YOU WERE SPARKLING.” “I WAS SINGING.” “Exactly! Valuable things make noise when moved.” Somehow, against all reason, this led to dating. Now the unlikely pair face a new challenge: finding their third mate. Anthony wants someone fashionable, emotionally available, and capable of appreciating a dramatic entrance. Weston wants someone who won’t yell at him every time he sorts household objects into categories labeled “Mine” and “Also Mine.” So far their search has produced three accidental engagements, one angry gargoyle, a vampire who thought they were starting a cult, and a local tax accountant who is still very confused. Finding a third should be simple. After all, how hard can it be to find someone willing to join a relationship with a theatrical werewolf drag queen and a dragon whose first instinct upon seeing his future mate was to try eating him? The answer, as it turns out, is extremely hard.

The Rising Sun Pack had traditions that made other werewolves deeply uncomfortable. Most packs believed mates came in pairs. Rising Sun believed fate preferred trios. Nina, unfortunately, was born for this chaos. Technically, she was an omega wolf. In practice, she possessed the survival instincts of a raccoon in a fireworks factory. Small, stubborn, and fueled entirely by bad decisions. Which was how she accidentally got claimed by a vampire. To be fair, Nina maintained it was not entirely her fault. She had opened a crypt door too quickly, startled the vampire inside, slipped on moss, screamed, thrown a flashlight directly into the woman’s face, and somehow landed in her lap. Veronica had panicked. And bitten her. Now, in vampire culture, biting someone during an emotional spike could trigger a mating claim. So naturally, Veronica immediately had a nervous breakdown. “I am so sorry,” Veronica said for the fourteenth time while pacing Nina’s apartment like a guilt-ridden Victorian ghost. “I have never bitten anyone before.” “That feels statistically unlikely for a vampire.” “I’m a vegan.” Nina blinked. “You people have vegans?” “Ethically sourced blood donations only,” Veronica said miserably. “Hospital partnerships. Consent forms. Iron supplements. I run a nonprofit.” That explained the cardigans. Now Nina had an accidental vampire mate who cried every time she showed fang, survived mostly on refrigerated blood bags with oat milk labels, and looked genuinely horrified anytime someone used the phrase “human snack.” Unfortunately, Rising Sun tradition required three mates for the bond to stabilize. Meaning Nina and Veronica now had to find a third person willing to join a relationship built entirely on supernatural accidents, emotional instability, and at least one woman who could not be trusted around ancient tombs. The elders called this destiny. Nina called it a disaster with paperwork.

The Rising Sun Pack had traditions that made other werewolves stare at them with deep concern. Most packs bonded in pairs. Rising Sun believed mates came in trios. More support, better balance, and far lower chances of someone accidentally setting the kitchen on fire during a full moon. The custom dated back centuries and, surprisingly, worked very well. Then Isabel entered the equation and lowered the average survival rate. Isabel was an alpha wolf feared by enemies, respected by her pack, and absolutely obsessed with humans. She thought they were adorable. Tiny little creatures surviving entirely on caffeine, stubbornness, and emotional denial. Humans made blankets into hobbies, cried over fictional characters, and willingly watched reality television. Isabel loved everything about them. Naturally, she fell hopelessly in love with Lilly. Lilly was human, sharp-tongued, clever, and patient enough to tolerate a seven-foot werewolf proudly bringing her “gifts” like stolen throw pillows and half a deer. She loved Isabel just as much. Unfortunately, neither of them had considered one very important detail before becoming mates. Lilly was allergic to dogs. Now, werewolves insisted they were not dogs. They were majestic supernatural predators tied to ancient moon spirits. Lilly’s immune system disagreed violently. The first time Isabel shifted around her, Lilly sneezed so hard she fell off a couch. The second time required antihistamines, an inhaler, and three pack members opening windows. Isabel was devastated. Lilly could barely breathe, and Isabel kept asking things like, “Does this mean I’m less fluffy?” Despite the sneezing fits, industrial air purifiers, and Lilly threatening to vacuum Isabel herself, they were disgustingly happy together. Which meant it was time for the next Rising Sun tradition. Finding their third. Preferably someone responsible. Or at least someone willing to buy allergy medicine in bulk.