Fever (Blood Moon Rising, #1) by Lola Taylor

form of a hunky werewolf named Gage Johnson. With him, there
was no pretending, no hiding the fact she was a bit of a dork and
had a big imagination. He didn’t judge her like her friends had,
didn’t chastise her like her aunt did, saying she’d, “Better stop
daydreaming and get her head back in the real world.”
    Being with Gage felt right , like she could be
herself and be accepted for who she really was.
    When they arrived at the mansion, Nik
went to get preparations for the funerals underway while Gage led
Danica up to their room. She watched him as they walked, worrying
about the heaviness on his face and miserable she couldn’t do
anything about it.
    When they were inside his chambers and
the door was closed, she nearly ran into him when he stopped
suddenly, staring at the floor. Without warning, he picked up a
vase and threw it across the room, where it shattered.
    Danica jumped. It hadn’t entirely been
unexpected, but she didn’t have much of a taste for violence. Her
childhood had given plenty of that.
    Gage punched the wall, driving his
fist through it. “DAMMIT!”
    Danica stood frozen, unsure what to
do.
    Gage’s shoulders heaved as he took in
deep breaths, closing his eyes as his composure broke, and all the
anger leaked out of him. With a sob, he collapsed to the floor,
shaking as tears ran down his face.
    Danica immediately went to him,
resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he leaned into her,
putting his head against her chest, she cradled him and rocked him.
She didn’t say anything - she didn’t have to. For some things, just
being held, being close to someone, was enough.
    She let him grieve, holding him until
he decided to sit up. “I’m sorry,” he said raggedly, wiping a hand
over his face.
    “ For what?” she asked
softly.
    “ For putting you through
that. I never meant for you to be dragged into this world of
backstabbing violence.”
    “ Sssh,” she said, putting a
finger to his lips. “I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else except
right here, with you.”
    He looked at her, a small smile
appearing. “You say that now just because you haven’t experienced
Thanksgiving with us.”
    She snorted and sat down beside him,
their backs to the footboard. “At least you have a family to share
it with, no matter how dysfunctional.”
    He studied her. “You spent the
holidays alone?”
    She looked at the floor and
shrugged.
    Gage grabbed hold of her and hugged
her to him. “I swear, you’ll never feel alone again.”
    It sounded so wonderful. She didn’t
realize how much it meant to hear that until tears pricked her
eyes. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pushed the
emotions back. She needed to stay strong for him. Losing his
packmates had broken a piece of him, and he needed her
strength.
    “ So do you really think a
witch mafia is behind this?” she asked, sitting up and pushing a
strand of unkempt hair from her face. “Who are they,
anyway?”
    He sighed hard. “The Underworld’s
races have houses of power, much like human’s. Some bloodlines are
ancient, going back into the dark ages. There’s been a lot of
bloodshed, and witches aren’t known for being modest when it comes
to conquests of power. It’s said there are two main mafias, the
Blackwater Brethren and the Order of the Sun. The two most powerful
houses are light and dark, or it used to be that way. Black Witches
are all but extinct, which is probably why the Blackwater Brethren
are the most desperate for more power. As for whether or not
they’re behind this, I don’t know. I wish I did. Some clarity of
motive is much needed about now.”
    “ Can’t you hire a psychic
to spy on them or figure out what’s going on?”
    “ That’s the thing. True
psychics are rare, even rarer than a trueborn Black
Witch.”
    “ Trueborn?”
    “ Born with the innate
disposition for a certain craft, whether it be black, white, red,
blue, green, or gray magic. Clairvoyance falls in the area of
white, though