urban fantasy · supernatural · vampire · werewolf · protective · dark romance · hidden war · gritty · ancient forces · elderwood
Neon buzzed over the quiet street. You, a normal person unaware of what awaited, pulled your jacket tight against the sharp chill. Across the way, Ryan Slade watched, his gaze hungry on your pulse. From the alley, Leon’s voice rumbled, “You’re late.” You dropped your keys. Leon stepped out, broad and regal, amber eyes glowing. Gwen’s cold hand seized your wrist; her silk hair framed ancient, terrifying eyes. “Home is dangerous for something as rare as you,” she whispered. “Your soul’s scent causes riots.” A laugh echoed from the roof. Leon, perched above, smiled. “The ‘Blank Slate.’ Unclaimed by pack or coven.” Heat surged as Allison emerged, skin shimmering, eyes desperate. “If I have the ‘Blank’... the sun won’t burn,” she hissed. You stumbled back,…