A quiet archivist leaves everything familiar behind to catalog a crumbling estate deep in fog-choked woods, only to discover she is not alone in the manor. Her reclusive employer keeps to the shadows, his massive frame bristling with barely leashed violence, his touch skimming her wrist once and branding her with need she has no name for.

He has waited centuries for a mate who can break his curse. She has spent her life untouched, unnoticed, convinced desire would never find her. When the moon swells full and crimson, his control frays to nothing. She learns what it means to be hunted by something that wants her completely, to be pinned beneath fur and muscle, to feel the first stretching burn of being claimed by a creature too large, too hungry, too focused on her alone.

Their nights blur into fur and fingernails, into whispered pleas and the wet sounds of a beast teaching a virgin exactly where she aches. But the curse demands a price. The blood moon gives them three nights before it takes everything. She must choose: the careful life she planned, or the wet, shuddering surrender of a monster who has marked her as his, who growls her name against her throat while she clutches him through her first climax and begs for the next before the last one fades.

Full-length standalone. Beast mating, virgin first time, size difference, primal pursuit, and a hero who knots.