In a world of monsters and gods, the Lupus Deus is the one being no one wants among them, especially not the gods that wronged him. Vivian Grey is as average as any werewolf comes, or at least that's what she believes growing up until she is confronted with the fact that her mate is the monster she heard stories about growing up. It doesn't take her long to realize that he is as cruel as whispered, as unfeeling as he is complex, and far more monstrous than believed. When push comes to shove she'll have to learn to navigate her own strength or risk being drowned in his. As a war between her mate and the gods that made him take place, love, might just easily become a double-edged sword. PUBLISHED ON AMAZON Link: https://www.amazon.com/Lupus-Deus-Werewolf-Sophia-Moore/dp/1644341271/ref=nodl_

A beat of a second passed before he slowly pulled away from me, the suffocating heat withdrawing with him as he straightened up. My eyes lifted to meet his as he released his hold on my knife, and I flicked my wrist, flipping it with ease so my hands closed around its smooth, still-warm handle. The room was silent. The ten other men seated on the couch didn't bother trying to hide the shock on their faces that a hunter had just agreed to a deal with their Alpha. I totally felt the same way, even if I was that dumb motherfucker. They seemed to be imagining what horrible, unthinkable threats he could have whispered into my ear to make me cave, but to think my resolve had dissolved with just four unexpected words from his mouth. Sometimes, I wondered if I even had a brain. "So," I said now, holding back a sigh as I looked up into those steely, unreadable eyes, "If I'm going to work with you, I'll need a name to call you by. Unless you prefer to be referred to as moody dick?" Silence followed my words. "What, don't you guys know Moby Dick?" I asked no one in particular, and ten pairs of eyes exchanged glances that further questioned my sanity. The last pair of eyes held mine steady. The ring of gold in them seemed to burn like a flickering candlelight against the night of the sea. "Heath," he said, and I could finally place his accent as the name curled and settled in my ears like a cat by the fireplace. I smiled. "Well, cool." I put my hand out between us, the one holding the knife, the silver-pointed tip facing him as I offered him a handshake. "Nice to meet you moody dick, I'm Alessandra."

Lexie is not a warrior. In fact, Lexie is a painter. Her hands are always covered in paint. Never coming off. Always there. For Lexie, painting is an escape. An escape from her pain. She paints to avoid the darkness that is in her soul. She paints to avoid looking at the bleeding wound inside her chest. She paints. To forget. But then Lexie meets someone. Her mate. He also hides a dark anger inside him. An anger at everything and the world around him. When two souls collide, how do you fix each other? Atlas isn't looking for a mate. He's seen the effect of women within his life, and how cruel they can be. But then he meets someone. Someone he doesn't want to meet. A painter soul. And a warrior's heart. How will the two collide? ***Note this can be read as a stand-alone story. Moon Child can be found on world_joy_ bio page - feel free to read it to get other characters background story. Highest rank #1 in werewolf Thank you for reading Copyright: ©Joy (world_joy_) All rights reserved

"Will not hurt mate." the hot puffs of breath tickled her neck, she couldn't help the increasing rate of her heart as it's claws rhythmically brushed down her back and the wirery, bristle like hair on its chest prickled into her cheek. _____________________________________________________________________ It's 2556, the up and coming 16th anniversary celebrating the end of The Great War. Lydia Saunders is the go to girl of the military, no-one has a record as perfect as hers. But when her latest mission goes bust and reviles something unexpected, what will she do?