Free Night Fall on Dark Mountain by Delilah Devlin

it’s a whole new war. He won’t honor any ancient treaty—he won’t play by the rules. Our peaceful, secret co-existence with humans will be over, and we’ll all be hunted to extinction.”
    Despite the chill his brother’s stark pronouncement sent quivering down his spine, Alec snorted. “A plague of locusts, rivers flowing with blood…what? Armageddon? Like any werewolf would make a pact with a demon like that.”
    Max leaned close, his forehead halted by the bars. “It’s already happening,” he said, his lips twisting. “He has the three men who can make all this come to pass, and he was at the breeder’s doorstep last night.”
    “Sounds like a fairytale to me. Something the vamps dreamed up to fuck with our heads and draw us out of our territory.”
    “Dammit, Alec! They killed Darcy. You knew her. She didn’t fucking deserve to die that way—a goddamn wolf ripped her baby out of her.”
    Alec stood in rigid shock. “That would never happen.”
    “Well, it did.”
    “You saw it for yourself?”
    “No, but he did,” Max said, tilting his head toward Joe.
    Alec narrowed his gaze. “And you believe him? What if they’re using you? Feeding you a goddamn story?”
    Max reached between the bars and clutched Alec’s shoulder. “You’ve got to listen to me. Put aside your prejudice for just one goddamn minute. Consider if what I say is true—life as you know it will cease. You won’t have this cozy little town with your hot little were-bitch to fuck—you’ll both be living like animals in the woods, hunting deer and mice to survive—and every redneck with a rifle will be hunting you for your hide!”
    Alec jerked away from his touch, cold, mind-numbing shock threatening to overcome him.
    It could never happen—not again. Not another bloody pogrom. The wereclans had been decimated before they’d fled the Old Country. They’d learned to co-exist—they’d banded and accepted law, agreed to be governed by the lairds. They were civilized, sentient. How easily could all that be lost?
    Alec swallowed against the horrible possibility and straightened. “I’ll send a message to our overlaird. You’ll get your chance to convince him. But prepare yourself. He’ll probably still demand your death—and his,” he said, lifting his chin toward Joe. He turned on his heel and walked away. His head reeled with all he’d heard, and his stomach churned over what the overlaird would do to his brother. Max’s story was too much to take in, and at the back of it all was the need to find Stasia. Now .
    Already his body tightened. Every ounce of desperation, anger, and need seemed to flow straight toward his cock, making his muscles rigid with the need to cram himself inside her, conquer her—mark her so anyone looking at her would recognize his claim.
    She’d flaunted herself before Max, before Joe, her avid gaze drinking in their physiques. She’d compared them to him. He’d make sure she didn’t find him wanting.
    The key to her passion was submission—rough, even cruel, forced submission. He should have known. He’d watched her with Max all those years ago—witnessed the way his brother had handled her.
    At the time, his stomach had turned at the frenzy of violence that overtook Max when he’d forced her, ripping away her clothing, restraining her hands and legs with his weight as he’d entered her in hard, pounding thrusts.
    But Alec hadn’t been so naïve that he’d missed the clues to her arousal. The biggest being her pungent scent. While she’d screamed and clawed at Max, she’d ripened. Her nipples had tightened to hard points, and her howls rang in his ears as she’d writhed beneath Max.
    Unable to intervene unless he was willing to challenge his brother in trial, he’d bit back his objections and watched while Max ravaged Stasia. Hidden in the brush, he’d crept closer, his greedy gaze eating up the glimpses of her honed body—pale skin rippling over muscle, her dark bush