Lycan It

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He fought the pack with the ferocity born of years of abuse and anger that tore at him. He’d never agreed on the brutal beliefs of his pack, but hadn’t been strong enough to break free . . . until now. Or so he thought.

Last night, when Damon had dragged that poor woman in and used her in front of everyone while they laughed and egged him on, had been the last straw for Raze. The woman’s terrified screams still echoed in his mind. He’d no longer been able to fool himself into believing that he could continue to witness the ever increasing violence.

The pack had been singling out women with the mating scent for months now, and while he’d known it was wrong, he’d forced himself to turn a blind eye. Every potential mate had two scents—a main scent, which all lycans could smell, and a mated scent, which could only be detected by a fated mate.

The lycans were dying out, and every potential mate was crucial and sacred in playing a role to revive their race. The alpha male, Damon, had decided that those with the scent were marked for one thing only. Sex. Raze, on the other hand, felt differently. Those who carried the main scent were supposed to be protected until their true mate was found, not brutalized.

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