Kaia Amora Uley was bestowed the title "Angel of La Push". Her warmth and thoughtfulness radiated to everyone she met, spreading like sunlight through the forest canopy. Life had been full of comfort, family, and friends... until a sudden transformation left her brother distant, his smile less frequent, his presence harder to reach. The winds of the forest whispered to her in gentle voices about shifting protectors and the cold ones treadling near their land. Through it all, her heart found an unexpected pull toward the hotheaded troublemaker of La Push. A pull she would eventually admit was nothing less than complete and shameless love: 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦. The Angel & The Hothead A perfect pair through the Ancestors' eyes. ─────────── [ paul lahote x female oc ] [ pre-twilight to ??? ] [ book 1 of the saints of the moon series ] [ cover inspired by @the-misfit ] #1 in slowbuild #1 in quileute #1 in sethclearwater #1 in wolves #1 in jacobblack #1 in embrycall #2 in twilight #2 in jaredcameron #2 in emilyyoung #3 in wolfpack #3 in quilateara #3 in leahclearwater #4 in newmoon #4 in cullen #5 in shapeshifter

Prince Valarr Targaryen, son of Baelor Targaryen, was carefully sculpted to be the perfect prince. But the death of his beloved wife, Elayne Redwyne, left a hollow space in his chest that duty could not fill. In the cold wake of his loss, he found warmth in the one place he should have feared to look: the tempting arms of Lady Lysara Loraqen. Lysara is renowned for being clever, with a beauty that surpasses the muck of Westeros, and-most dangerously-the shackled wife of the volatile, Prince Aerion Targaryen. What began as a whispered confidence in a dark corridor has spiraled into a feverish obsession. For Valarr, Lysara is no longer just comfort; she is a necessity. But for Aerion, possession is the only law. Known for a temper that burns hotter than wildfire, Aerion views his wife as his absolute domain. The one thing no one can claim ownership over, but himself. In a court where every wall has ears, and every shadow has eyes, Valarr and Lysara play a lethal game of heated liaison. They dance recklessly on the edge of a blade, knowing that if Aerion were to suspect of their betrayal, the Dragonpit will run red with more than just old blood.