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She'd put a knife to a prince's throat that morning. By noon, her father had traded her for iron ore. Darcy knew she was supposed to sit quietly, smile correctly, and be grateful for the honour. She'd been practising that particular performance her whole life. But something happened when the blood on her hands reached those four sets of phosphorescent blue eyes. Something her father hadn't accounted for. Something even she couldn't name yet. They said she was their fated mate. She said that sounded like someone else's problem. What she didn't say, not out loud, was that one of them had already gotten under her skin in a way that terrified her far more than the deal itself did. 🐺 Ready to find out what she becomes? Start With Fangs and Claws today.