Lycan Vengeance

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To my husband who lets me subject him to the workings of my imagination—even under duress at times—but who is also proud of everything I accomplish.

As always, to my brilliant writing buddy, Tawanna, who allows me to bounce ideas off her, and has no qualms about giving me honest, helpful input and critique at any given moment.

And thanks to all of my wonderful readers who love reading about sexy, alpha lycans as much as I like writing about them.

Rose took aim at the lycan and pulled the bowstring back in a fluent, silent motion, waiting for the perfect moment to let it fly into the heart of the beast. She’d spent the last ten years hunting the monsters, and vowed to quit only on the day she drew her last breath. While most humans lived in oblivious bliss to the existence of the shape-shifters, she was not so lucky. The knowledge that such monsters existed would do nothing but create terror and chaos, a terror so deep it embedded itself into one’s bones, one’s essence. At this point in her life, oblivious bliss sounded like heaven.

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