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.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Diana Divoss is a matchmaker extraordinaire. She specializes in a very particular clientele: individuals of the paranormal variety. Today, however, she faces a challenge of truly colossal proportions. Literally. Abyssia is a Kraken. The giant tentacled terror of the deep. The nightmare of sailors. The reason ancient fishermen suddenly developed vivid imaginations and stress-induced baldness. Now, in Abyssia’s defense, she has sunk a few hundred ships. A few hundred. But she would like everyone to stop focusing on that. First of all, it was over two centuries ago. Second, maritime safety standards were much lower back then. Third, some of those captains were being incredibly rude. Besides, she hasn’t touched a ship in two hundred years. Do people let her forget that? Absolutely not. Every first date starts the same way. “So… have you ever done anything exciting?” And then somehow they’re screaming, diving out windows, or claiming they suddenly remembered they left the stove on in another country. It’s very frustrating. Because beneath the terrifying reputation, the thirty-foot tentacles, and the ability to accidentally create a category-five storm when she sneezes, Abyssia is actually a sweetheart. She enjoys knitting. She collects teacups. She volunteers at an ocean wildlife sanctuary. She cries during romantic movies and insists that every sea turtle she rescues is “just a little baby,” even when it weighs three hundred pounds. What Abyssia wants is simple: someone who sees beyond the legends. Someone who won’t immediately assume she’s going to drag them to a watery grave. Someone who appreciates candlelit dinners, long swims beneath the moonlight, and perhaps the occasional surprise shipwreck anecdote. After all, everyone deserves love. Even if they once terrorized an entire coastline. Several coastlines. Fine. Most of the Atlantic. But that was a long time ago.

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match…” Diana Divoss had heard those words so often they no longer sounded romantic. She was the premier matchmaker for the paranormal community. Then there were the fae. The moment a woodland fae submitted an application, Diana automatically tripled her rates. Sometimes she quadrupled them. Because fae were impossible. Take Acacio. Handsome? Naturally. Woodland fae looked like they were handcrafted by nature itself. Long chestnut hair, emerald eyes, flawless features, and enough magical charm to make woodland creatures follow him around like devoted fans. Single? Unfortunately, yes. Acacio was the embodiment of fae perfection, which meant he expected perfection from everyone else. Previous matches had been rejected because: “Her laugh startled a squirrel.” “He stepped on moss.” “The color of her aura doesn’t complement spring.” “My favorite tree is ash. His is oak. We clearly have different values.” Diana once spent six months finding a woman who met every requirement on Acacio’s extensive list. His response? “The forest spirits informed me she folds towels incorrectly.” The forest spirits, apparently, had opinions. Now Diana sat across from him once again, staring at a new application that somehow exceeded the length of a legal contract. Acacio smiled pleasantly. Diana considered retirement. Finding mates for vampires was easier. Finding mates for dragons was easier. Mediating disputes between rival werewolf packs was easier. Yet somewhere in the world existed a person capable of meeting Acacio’s standards. At least Diana hoped so. Otherwise she was going to spend the next century listening to a woodland fae explain why true love had been ruined because someone used the wrong fertilizer on a rose bush. And considering Acacio’s track record, that was not even the strangest reason she had heard.

The world of Zenora was dying. Beyond the mountain fortress of Astonia stretched a wilderness ruled by the beast races.. Twenty-five thousand souls clung to survival within the towering stone walls of the Last Stronghold. Yet humanity had not endured alone. Dragons had stood beside them. At the center of that fragile alliance stood Queen Catherine, ruler of mankind, and at her side flew her bonded dragon, Angeline. Angeline was not merely Catherine’s bonded dragon. She was her daughter. Born from a forbidden union between the queen and a dragon-kin lord, Angeline carried two worlds within her blood. Dragon scales covered her body more often than not, and to the world she remained a dragon first and foremost. It was safer that way. Because while Angeline loved the freedom of the skies, she secretly longed for something she could never openly claim. Belonging. On quiet nights she slipped beyond the royal aerie and took on her human form, wandering the streets and marketplaces hidden beneath a cloak. For a few precious hours, she could pretend she was simply one of them. Not a weapon. Not a symbol. Not a secret. Just a woman. Yet another part of her heart belonged beyond Astonia’s walls. She had flown with the wild dragon-kin who nested among the distant peaks and forgotten valleys. Among them she felt the pull of her draconic heritage, the call of untamed skies and ancient traditions. Her greatest comfort came from knowing she was not alone in carrying the blood of both worlds. Her brother, Fallon, a wolf-kin leader, walked a path just as complicated as her own. Angeline often found herself caught between her human heart and her draconic instincts. Two worlds. Two families. Two lives she could never fully claim. As war closed around the Last Stronghold, Angeline feared the day her secrets would finally come to light. For when dragons and humans alike learned the truth of her birth, she might discover that she belonged to neither world at all.

The world of Zenora is dying. The Kingdom of Man, once a sprawling empire of shining cities and fertile fields, has been reduced to a single mountain stronghold hidden among the peaks of Astonia. Twenty-five thousand souls remain behind its walls. Beyond the fortress stretches the wild. A land ruled by beast races, ancient creatures, and powers older than human memory.Humanity calls it wilderness. The beast races call it home. Among them stands Fallon. Alpha of the wolf-kin. Warlord. Hunter. Leader. Monster. At least, that is what humanity would call him. Fallon has spent years watching mankind from the shadows. Unlike most of his kin, he knows their language. Their customs. Their fears. He has walked their streets wearing human skin and listened to their prayers behind stone walls. He knows exactly what humanity is. And exactly what it has done. Every scar carved into the wild. He has every reason to hate them. Yet Fallon carries a secret capable of shaking both kingdoms. Human blood runs through his veins. His mother is Queen Catherine herself—the ruler of humanity and protector of Astonia’s final stronghold. His father was a wolf-kin warrior. One night of passion created a child neither world would willingly accept. Rather than abandon her infant to die, Catherine sought out his father and entrusted him to the wolf-kin. Fallon was raised among wolves, taught their ways, and forged into the Alpha he would become. Only a handful know the truth. Fewer still understand what it means. Because Fallon also has a sister living within the mountain walls. Angeline. Half dragon. His family. He would gladly watch humanity’s kingdom crumble into dust. He would gladly lead the beast races to victory. But should anyone threaten his mother or sister? Fallon would burn the wild itself to ash before allowing either woman to come to harm. For monsters can love. And that makes them far more dangerous than hate ever could.

Once, humanity had ruled the valleys, forests, rivers, and plains of Zenora. Great cities had stretched from horizon to horizon. Those days were gone. The beast races had claimed the lands below, and only one human kingdom remained—a fortress carved into the mountains themselves. Twenty-five thousand souls lived within its walls. Twenty-five thousand souls standing against extinction. To her people, Queen Catherine was the Iron Rose of Astonia. The last queen. The defender of mankind. The woman who had inherited the crown from her mother, continuing an unbroken line of noble queens stretching back centuries. She spoke of duty, sacrifice, and survival. She stood beside dragons in battle and inspired soldiers to face impossible odds. The people loved her because she represented hope. But hope was built upon lies. The greatest secret in Zenora wore a crown. The queen publicly had no children. The truth would shatter everything humanity believed. Her son lived beyond the walls. Fallon. Alpha of the wolf-kin. A child she had abandoned with tears in her eyes, not from shame, but from love. Human nobles would have demanded his death. Sending him away had been the only way to keep him alive. And Fallon was not her only secret. Her bound dragon, Angeline, was far more than a trusted companion. She was Catherine’s daughter. Half dragon-kin. Half human. A living symbol of the future Catherine desperately wished to create. A future where humans and every beast race could stand together instead of tearing one another apart. Yet each year the dream seemed more impossible. So Catherine carried her secrets alone. She wore the mask of humanity’s champion while quietly nurturing a future she would likely never live to see. Because Queen Catherine had long accepted a painful truth: She would not be the queen who united Zenora. She would simply be the woman who made sure that future survived long enough to be born.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. For Diana Divoss, Matchmaker Extraordinaire to the paranormal community. She’s seen it all. Then Bonie walked into her office. Technically, Bonie is a Grim Reaper. Professionally, she guides souls into the afterlife. Personally, she’s spectacularly single. Unfortunately, the lack of skin hasn’t helped her dating prospects. Which is unfair. Bonie has a wonderful smile. Every single tooth is present, polished, and gleaming. Her rib cage practically sparkles. Her posture is flawless. And her eye sockets? Peer into them and you’ll glimpse the endless mysteries of oblivion itself. It’s actually quite beautiful in a cosmic sort of way. The dating world, however, has been less than understanding. One date screamed and dove through a restaurant window. Another spent the evening asking if Bonie could introduce him to famous dead people. A third claimed he wasn’t emotionally prepared to date “the physical embodiment of mortality.” The truth is that Bonie is kind, thoughtful, funny, and surprisingly optimistic for someone whose day job revolves around death. She enjoys moonlit walks through graveyards, collecting antique hourglasses, and listening to people’s stories before their final journey. She isn’t looking for perfection. She just wants someone who won’t panic when she appears in a swirl of spectral mist. Someone who can appreciate a woman with excellent bone structure. Someone who sees beyond the skeleton and notices the charming personality underneath. Metaphorically, of course. There isn’t actually anything underneath. Still, Diana refuses to give up. Because somewhere out there is a person who will look at the most polished rib bones Earthside, stare into those lovely void-filled eye sockets, and think: “Yep. That’s the one.” And if Diana has anything to say about it, Bonie’s next date won’t end with screaming, fainting, or an emergency exorcism. Probably.

Welcome to the Kingdom of Evergleam. Try not to trip over a duke, insult a wizard, or accidentally start a civil war before breakfast. Tonight, the Grand Crystal Ball is being held in honor of Princess Aurelia Evergleam, heir to the throne, beloved by the people, blessed by the stars, and—according to the extremely annoying prophecy—your future spouse. As for you? Choose your own name. The story doesn’t really care what it is. It has already decided everything else for you. According to the prophecy, you are destined to arrive at the ball, lock eyes with the princess, dance exactly three times, fall deeply in love, defeat a conveniently evil sorcerer, get married, and rule the kingdom for fifty years before peacefully dying surrounded by grandchildren and suspiciously photogenic farm animals. Frankly, it’s all very boring. The Royal Narrator has spent years preparing this tale. Every page is outlined. Every conversation is scripted. Every dramatic moment has been carefully planned. Unfortunately, nobody accounted for you. You possess a rare and terrifying power known as Free Will. You could follow the story. You could romance the princess You could romance someone else. You could challenge a goose to single combat. You could steal the crown and declare yourself Supreme Emperor of Sandwiches. You could accidentally unleash an ancient horror because a mysterious glowing button specifically said DO NOT PRESS. The narrator is already sweating. Princess Aurelia is waiting in the ballroom. The orchestra is playing. Nobles are gossiping. Adventurers are boasting. And somewhere in the distance, destiny is desperately trying to hold itself together with duct tape and optimism. The great doors of the palace swing open before you. The story expects a hero. The kingdom expects a future ruler. The narrator expects a nervous young noble. Instead, they got you. Gods help them all.

While most packs form traditional mate pairs, Rising Sun forms trios. Kaitlyn was everything a Rising Sun omega should be. She was sweet, submissive, nurturing, and capable of building a nest so comfortable that wolves would accidentally miss work after lying down in it. She had spent years searching for the strongest alpha in the pack. Then she went grocery shopping. And found Karen. Karen was human. Karen was not a werewolf. Karen was not even particularly athletic. What Karen was, however, was standing in the middle of aisle seven demanding to speak to whoever was in charge. Not the store manager. Not the district manager. The person above them. And if necessary, the person above that person. Kaitlyn watched in awe. Every wolf instinct she possessed screamed that she had found the most powerful creature she had ever encountered. Within six months, Karen had somehow become her mate. Within a year, Karen was attending pack meetings. Within eighteen months, Karen was running pack meetings. Nobody was entirely sure how it happened. The Alpha of the pack certainly wasn’t. The former Alpha had once challenged a grizzly bear to establish dominance. Karen had challenged the county zoning board. The bear had been less terrifying. Now Karen serves as the unofficial voice of the Rising Sun Pack. Meanwhile, Kaitlyn remains hopelessly devoted to her mate, happily building nests and admiring Karen’s ability to intimidate authority figures without possessing a single fang. The only thing missing from their lives is a third mate. Which is why the couple has begun searching. Somewhere out there is a wolf, human, or otherwise brave soul willing to join a relationship where one partner is a professional nest builder and the other once requested a meeting with a werewolf elder because she was unhappy with the formatting of an official document. The search is ongoing. The elders are nervous. Karen has already prepared interview questions.

The world of Zenora is dying. Humanity has been driven to the brink of extinction, reduced to a single stronghold hidden within the mountains of Astonia. Twenty-five thousand people remain, protected by towering walls and an alliance with the Dragon Kin. Beyond those mountains stretch vast lands claimed by the beast races—though humans still insist those territories should belong to them. Among the beast races stands one of the most feared leaders in the world: Z'ara, Matriarch of the Orc Kin. Strong, intelligent, and unyielding, Z'ara united the scattered orc clans beneath a single banner. She transformed generations of infighting into a powerful nation capable of resisting humanity's constant expansion. To her people, she is a symbol of freedom and survival. Yet it was not her victories in battle that made history. It was a dragon. For centuries, humans claimed only they could form true bonds with Dragon Kin. Dragons might ally with other races, but the deep partnership shared between humans and dragons was believed impossible for anyone else. Then Z'ara found Vorn. The great dragon had been left for dead among the Dragon Peaks. His wings were torn, his body broken, and death was only days away. While others would have abandoned him, Z'ara stayed. She hunted for him, protected him, and nursed him back to health. In those long months, something unexpected grew between them. Trust. Friendship. Love. Their bond shattered centuries of human beliefs. Vorn did not see an orc. He saw the warrior who refused to let him die. Z'ara did not see a beast. She saw a soul as fierce and loyal as her own. Now the two are inseparable. Where Z'ara walks, Vorn flies overhead. Where Vorn fights, Z'ara stands beside him. Together they rule the Orc Kin, proving that dragons and beast races can stand as equals. To the Orcs, they are heroes. To the Dragon Kin, they are legends. To humanity, they are a terrifying reminder that they no longer hold a monopoly on dragons.

Far beyond the mountains of Astonia, where humanity clings desperately to its final stronghold of twenty-five thousand souls, the seas belong to another kingdom entirely. Beneath rolling waves, among coral palaces and glowing reefs older than any human city, reigns King Trion, sovereign of the Mermaid Kin. To the people of Astonia, the ocean is merely another resource to be harvested. Their ships cast vast nets into sacred waters, dragging merfolk from their homes alongside fish and whales. Those fortunate enough to survive captivity are sold as curiosities, laborers, or trophies. Worse still are the dragons. Though dragons and humans now stand united against the beast races, many dragon-kin view merfolk as little more than prey. Their shadows darken the sea's surface without warning. King Trion has spent centuries defending his people from both threats. A towering figure among merfolk, his silver-blue scales bear the scars of countless battles. Wise, proud, and relentless, he has united scattered ocean tribes beneath a single banner. He refuses to surrender even a single reef to those who would claim dominion over the seas. At his side stands his daughter, Princess Pearl. She is fierce beyond her years, Pearl possesses both the compassion of a healer and the fury of a storm. Her luminous white scales and radiant sapphire eyes have become symbols of hope throughout the underwater kingdom. Many see her as the future of the Mermaid Kin—a leader capable of inspiring unity where others see only hatred. Yet Pearl's heart is troubled. She has witnessed humanity's cruelty and dragonkind's hunger, but she also wonders if endless war can truly save her people. While Trion prepares for battle, Pearl searches for another path. Together, father and daughter stand as guardians of the deep. One carries the wisdom of the past. The other embodies the uncertain future. And as darkness spreads across Zenora, the fate of the oceans may rest in their hands.

Lindsay Harper has a problem. Her ahems are haunted. Or, more specifically, possessed. The left one is occupied by Coco, her beloved golden retriever who passed away three years ago. Coco was loyal, affectionate, protective, and apparently unwilling to accept the concept of death. The right one belongs to Sasha, her late tabby cat. Sasha was judgmental, territorial, and firmly believed every living creature existed solely to serve her. Death, as it turns out, did absolutely nothing to improve Sasha's attitude. One day Lindsay and discovered that Coco and Sasha had somehow attached themselves to her chest like supernatural squatters. The dating scene has been even worse. Her last date seemed to be going wonderfully. The restaurant was nice. The conversation flowed naturally. Her companion was charming. Then he casually mentioned that he preferred cats. Immediately, her left ahem erupted with outraged barking. WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! Before Lindsay could apologize, her right ahem hissed loud enough to startle three nearby tables. The date ended shortly afterward. Another unfortunate gentleman attempted to compliment her appearance. Coco responded by barking happily. Sasha responded by growling. At the same time. The poor man nearly fell out of his chair. Lindsay has consulted veterinarians, psychics, mediums, priests, paranormal investigators, and one very confused therapist. None have helped. The good news is that Coco and Sasha still love her. The bad news is that they also hate each other. With Lindsay trapped permanently in the middle. Now she navigates life accompanied by a spectral dog on one side, a ghostly cat on the other, and the constant fear that a romantic moment might suddenly devolve into a supernatural pet argument. Because finding true love is hard enough. Finding true love while your chest is actively barking and hissing at potential partners? That's a challenge few relationship experts are qualified to handle.

The world of Zenora is dying. The Kingdom of Man clings to existence from a single fortress-city hidden deep within the mountains of Astonia. Twenty-five thousand souls remain behind walls of steel and stone, protected by an uneasy alliance between mankind and the dragon-kin. Beyond those mountains lies a world humanity calls lost. A world ruled by monsters. Or so the humans claim. Among the many beast races that control the lands beyond Astonia, few are as feared—or respected—as the Naga-Kin. Neither fully human nor fully serpent, they are descendants of an ancient bloodline that links them to both mankind and dragon-kind. Their empire stretches through jungles, swamps, and forgotten ruins where human armies dare not tread. At the head of that empire stand two rulers. Two hearts. Two minds. One soul. Seripha and Saul. Twins hatched from the same egg beneath the sacred waters of the Emerald Marshes. Where one stood, the other followed. Where one fought, the other struck. Their people speak of them not as siblings, but as two halves of a single being divided by fate. Seripha is the voice of wisdom, patience, and calculated ambition. Beautiful and terrifying in equal measure, she weaves alliances and plots with the precision of a master strategist. Saul is her counterpart—the spear to her shield. A warrior of unmatched ferocity whose presence on a battlefield can shatter entire formations. Together they rule with absolute authority. Together they have united tribes that once warred endlessly. Together they have pushed human forces back again and again. Together they dream of a future where the beast races no longer live beneath humanity's shadow. To the people of Astonia, they are villains. To the Naga-Kin, they are saviors. And as war once again looms across Zenora, Seripha and Saul prepare to lead their armies against the last kingdom of man. After all, every story has two sides. And history is written by whoever survives.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. For most people, those words are a hopeful wish. For Diana Divoss, they're a lucrative career. As one of the most successful paranormal matchmakers in the country, Diana has paired vampires, werewolves, witches, ghosts, and just about every supernatural creature imaginable. Her services are expensive, her reputation impeccable, and her patience legendary. Which is fortunate. Because then Nakio walked through her door. Nakio is a skunk shifter. And no, before anyone says it, the smell isn't the problem. She smells perfectly fine. Better than fine, actually. Nakio spends a small fortune on soaps, perfumes, and grooming products. Her black-and-white fur is immaculate, and she always looks her best. The problem is that Nakio has the personality of an angry cactus. She's blunt, sarcastic, stubborn, and possesses an almost supernatural ability to offend people within minutes of meeting them. She once made a troll cry during a speed-dating event. A centuries-old vampire lord described her as "exhausting." Even a demon told her she needed to be nicer . Her dating history is a graveyard of failed relationships. One boyfriend lasted three dates. Another joined a monastery. A third claimed he'd rather wrestle a dire bear than go to dinner with her again. The dire bear reportedly had better conversation skills. By the time Nakio arrived at Diana's office, the matchmaker had already heard the stories. "Double my normal fee," Diana said. "Done." "Triple." "Fine." "You aren't even negotiating." "I insulted my last accountant." "Why?" "He spoke to me." At that moment Diana understood exactly what she was dealing with. Now she faces perhaps the greatest challenge of her career: finding someone capable of loving a woman who treats every conversation like a competitive sport. Somewhere out there is Nakio's perfect soulmate. The real question is whether they'll survive the first date.

When Diana Divoss founded her paranormal matchmaking agency, she expected challenges. Then she met Sabrina Emberclaw. Standing nearly eighteen feet tall on all fours, Sabrina is a crimson dragoness with golden eyes, a warm smile, and enough maternal instincts to qualify as a natural disaster. A single mother of twelve dragon hatchlings, Sabrina's life revolves around family. Most people would stop at twelve children. Sabrina is not most people. Several years ago, she discovered an abandoned baby griffin in the mountains and brought it home. A lost baby troll wandered into her cave shortly afterward and never left. Then a goat appeared. Nobody knows where the goat came from. Naturally, Sabrina adopted it too. Her cave now contains twelve hatchlings, one griffin, one troll, one goat, three emergency snack stations, and a surprisingly effective timeout corner. When she's not parenting, Sabrina enjoys baking, reading, gardening, flying, and adding to her impressive treasure hoard. She has a soft spot for strays, underdogs, and anything that needs a home. As for her previous relationship... Well. The less said about that, the better. Officially, Sabrina's former mate is no longer part of the picture. There is absolutely no evidence suggesting she had anything to do with his disappearance. None whatsoever. Please stop asking about the volcano. Today, Sabrina is looking toward the future. She hopes to find someone kind, dependable, and patient enough to embrace her wonderfully chaotic family. Someone who won't be intimidated by a dragoness, overwhelmed by twelve energetic hatchlings, or alarmed by the occasional adopted creature showing up at the front door. After all, love isn't about finding perfection. It's about finding someone willing to share a treasure hoard, help wrangle children, and pretend they've never heard any rumors involving volcanoes. No proof, after all.

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match…” For Diana Divoss is the premier matchmaker for the supernatural community, she has seen nearly everything. Then XERIX walked into her office. Not Xerix. Not Mr. Xerix. XERIX. All capitals. Always. The incubus demon insisted his name be written entirely in capital letters. Contracts, emails, business cards—it didn't matter. If a single lowercase letter appeared, he acted as if a terrible crime had been committed. Even stranger, he somehow said his name in all capitals. Nobody knew how. Witches had studied it. Scholars had debated it. One linguistics professor reportedly changed careers after trying to explain it. Yet whenever the demon introduced himself, everyone could hear the capitalization. “I AM XERIX!” The declaration hit Diana's office like a thunderclap, rattling the windows before the demon himself even sat down. XERIX was handsome, powerful, charming, and possessed enough confidence for several dimensions. In his opinion, he was also the greatest gift ever bestowed upon existence. “What brings you to a matchmaker?” Diana asked. XERIX flashed a dazzling smile. “THE WORLD HAS BEEN DENIED THE PRIVILEGE OF DATING XERIX.” “That's tragic.” “I HAVE DECIDED TO CORRECT THIS OVERSIGHT.” Of course he had. Diana pulled out her notebook. “What are you looking for?” “BEAUTIFUL. INTELLIGENT. POWERFUL. SOPHISTICATED. CHARMING. WORTHY OF XERIX.” “That seems like a very demanding list.” “IT IS ONLY FAIR.” “And what exactly do you bring to the relationship?” The incubus blinked. “XERIX.” Diana stared. XERIX smiled proudly. Diana immediately doubled her consultation fee. Because she knew this case would require hazard pay. Somewhere, fate was laughing. After all, finding love is difficult. Finding someone willing to tolerate XERIX's ego for more than five consecutive minutes? That bordered on the supernatural.

"Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match..." Most people hear that phrase and think of romance, flowers, and awkward first dates. Diana Divoss is the premier matchmaker for the paranormal community. Remarkably, she's also completely human. In a profession filled with creatures capable of turning her into a frog, draining her blood, or accidentally setting her on fire, most would call that a disadvantage. Diana calls it leverage. After all, monsters need love too. The problem is that most monsters are terrible at dating. Vampires describe themselves as offering "eternal commitment," conveniently leaving out the fact that eternal means forever. Werewolves insist they're "house trained." Dragons refuse to date anyone who doesn't appreciate their treasure hoards. Demons have a troubling habit of forgetting to mention soul contracts. And the fae? Diana charges triple for fae. Her hidden office serves thousands of supernatural clients across the world. She maintains magical compatibility charts, enchanted records, and an emergency fund specifically for property damage caused by romantic misunderstandings. For the right amount of money, Diana can find anyone a match. A lonely lich seeking companionship? Easy. A sea serpent searching for true love? Done. A dragon prince wanting someone who loves him for more than his gold? She'll make it happen. Her reputation wasn't built on easy cases. It was built on impossible ones. She once arranged a successful marriage between two rival vampire clans. Another time she matched a banshee and a necromancer, proving that love really can survive death. Repeatedly. Now Diana faces her most challenging case yet. A client so difficult, so demanding, so catastrophically undatable that dozens of other matchmakers have already quit. Most people would run. Diana simply smiled, opened a new file, and doubled her fee. Because in the paranormal world, true love may be priceless. Finding it, however, is going to cost you.

The world of Zenora is dying. Or perhaps, Neoma thinks, it is finally healing. Entire peoples vanished beneath the march of human kingdoms. Every conquest was justified. Every atrocity was explained away. Now humanity stands on the edge of extinction. The Kingdom of Man has fallen, driven from nearly every corner of Zenora. Only Astonia remains—a fortress kingdom hidden within the mountains where twenty-five thousand humans cling to survival behind stone walls and dragonfire. Once rulers of the world, they are now little more than a desperate remnant. They call themselves survivors. The beast races call them the last invaders. Beyond Astonia lie the wild lands, territories humanity still claims as its own. Wolves, felines, scaled folk, horned tribes, and countless others know the truth. These lands belonged to them long before the first human king drew borders across a map. Each race follows its own leader and its own vision for the future. Neoma leads the Lupines. Dark-skinned and dark-furred, she rules a people caught between beast and man. Werewolves. Shapeshifters. Cousins of humanity who remember every broken promise and every betrayal. To her people she is a protector. To humans she is a monster lurking beyond the mountains. Neoma has seen too much to care what humans think. She remembers villages burned in the name of order. Treaties broken the moment they became inconvenient. Humanity speaks of peace now, but only because it is losing. Others believe mankind deserves mercy. The dragons have chosen to stand beside them. Some rulers speak of coexistence and reconciliation. Neoma speaks of consequences. She does not seek glory or conquest. She seeks an end to the cycle that has scarred Zenora for generations. In her eyes, humanity waiting for the chance to rise again. And she intends to make certain that chance never comes.

In the world of Zenora, the Kingdom of Man is dying. Once rulers of vast lands, humanity now clings to a single mountain fortress in the peaks of Astonia. Only twenty-five thousand people remain, protected by stone walls, steel, and an alliance with dragonkind. Together they claim to be the last bastion of civilization. Beyond those walls, the beast races tell a different story. Among them stands Sisa, Queen of the Lizard Kin. Her people were ancient long before human kingdoms rose. They built cities of black stone across jungles, marshes, and river valleys. They mastered forgotten magics tied to the earth and sun. Then came centuries of war. Dragons burned their strongholds. Humans hunted those who survived. Caught between two powerful races, the Lizard Kin were driven to the brink of extinction. Their temples became ruins. Their bloodlines vanished. Their eggs were shattered before they could hatch. What remained fled into the wilderness, hiding from enemies who saw scales and deemed them monsters. Sisa was born into this age of ruin. She grew up among shattered monuments and stories of a lost people. She remembers the graves of hatchlings. She remembers villages reduced to ash. She remembers that both humanity and dragons helped destroy her race. She rose to power through strength, cunning, and survival. Warriors followed her because she endured. Elders listened because she remembered. Under her leadership, scattered tribes united beneath a single banner for the first time in generations. Humans call her a savage. Dragons call her a threat. Neither truly understands her. Sisa does not dream of conquest or glory. She seeks justice for, and justice can be more terrible than vengeance. Now the Lizard Queen gathers her armies. Ancient ruins awaken beneath forgotten swamps. Old powers stir in the darkness. To humanity, Sisa is a nightmare emerging from the past. To the Lizard Kin, she is their last hope.

The Rising Sun Pack is known for having mates in trios, not pairs. Travis is a beta wolf. Pleasant. Reliable. Entirely ordinary by werewolf standards. He enjoys reading, hiking, and vacations that do not involve supernatural nonsense. He is also deaf. This fact became extremely important during what was supposed to be a relaxing cruise vacation. Sean, meanwhile, is a siren. A genuine, ocean-dwelling, sailor-luring, magical-song-singing siren. For centuries, his people have used their voices to enchant victims and draw them wherever they pleased. Sean is very good at it. Usually. The moment Sean spotted Travis across the ship's deck, he felt the unmistakable pull of a mate bond. Naturally, he did what any sensible siren would do. He sang. Nothing happened. He sang louder. Still nothing. He tried an ancient melody that had once convinced an entire pirate crew to abandon their ship. Travis continued reading his book. Sean spent three days escalating the situation into what witnesses later described as "an increasingly desperate one-man concert." Travis eventually looked up and asked through sign language why the strange shirtless man kept following him around the buffet. The revelation that his mate was completely immune to siren songs nearly caused Sean to fling himself into the ocean out of professional embarrassment. Unfortunately for him, the mate bond didn't care. Now they're happily together. Mostly. Sean has adjusted to the horrifying reality that communication requires effort instead of magical singing. Travis has adjusted to having a boyfriend who occasionally breaks into dramatic sea shanties during arguments. The only remaining problem is that Rising Sun mates come in trios. Which means they need a third. Ideally someone patient. Possibly brave. And preferably tone deaf. Because if Sean's pride is going to survive this relationship, he desperately needs at least one person who can still appreciate his singing.