Leave me the hell alone. Is that so freakn' hard to grasp?
Yeah, Derrick is angry, and bitter, but with good reason. His army buddies should have left him to die instead of dragging him out of the rebel camp—and he meant drag. Shrapnel to his back ensured his legs are useless hunks of meat. Everything below his waist is useless—limper than an overcooked noodle. Whimper.
As if that wasn't bad enough, fate just has to kick a wolf when he is down and send him the curvy and luscious Janine. According to his inner beast, she's his mate. Not happening. There will be no claiming because Derrick isn't about to saddle anyone with half a man. I don't want her pity.
Problem is, Janine, with her fiery red hair and tempting curves, won't leave him the hell alone. She thinks she can fix him. And a part of him, the part that refuses to give up hope, is tempted to let her try.
Can she teach this broken wolf new tricks—including bedroom ones—that will make him howl once again?
