Violet King Doesn’t Trust — Bonus Chapter 1

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**Violet’s Bucket List (To My Fated Mate)**
• Howl a love song under my window
• Slow dance in the rain
• Have a picnic
• Share an ice cream sundae with two spoons
• Count the stars all night
• Write love letters to each other
• Get matching bracelets
• Build me a treehouse with your own paws 
• Hold hands while watching the sunset
• Carve our initials into the cedar tree (best place in Blackmoon)
• Bring me pretty leaves from his hunts
• Let me paint his claws
• Be his own Moon 
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*Months Ago* 
***Cedar***

It’s her! 
My wolf breathes out, staring at the most beautiful woman we’ve ever seen. I feel a surge of intense happiness that shocked me into silence for a moment. 
I came here to save my sister. And here I am, facing a goddess.
And the way she stares at my wolf makes him nearly puff out his chest in satisfaction. 
It’s her!
Her eyes... Her perfect almond eyes are a soft, honey brown. 
I can get lost in them. How is she so fucking stunning?
Her brown eyes seem brightened. Luminous. I have never seen a being like her before. I’ve seen plenty of she-wolves in Razor’s pack, but never one like her. 
Dark chocolate and sweet raspberries fill the air around her and burn the space between my wolf’s nose and mouth.
She smells like *mine*!
But then I look down at her neck. It’s not the famous Werewolf mark of having been claimed that makes me mad the most, but the fact that there’s a strange color around it that my wolf’s Alpha eyes can see. It’s dirty and unworthy. My wolf growls.
She’s MINE!
The thought comes fierce and possessive and unexpected. It catches me off guard.
Blinded by hate and possessiveness, my wolf lunges forward without having a second thought and rips the fucker’s head off right in front of her. I was going to kill him anyway.
Then I realize my mistake. 
Right when she finally snaps out of her shock. Her eyes drop to the motherfucker’s bloody head on the ground as her hand flies to her mouth, stifling a soft gasp. Her voice shakes and trembles with disbelief while she calls this asshole name *in horror*, “Jordan!” 
She looks so frightened, like she’s about to collapse.
I feel an unsettled feeling in my gut, one I’ve felt the last night I’d stared down into my sister’s widened eyes and told her to run. And when we feel a dull throb of pain, I realize my wolf’s embedded his claws completely into the concrete ground. 
We’ve made our *mate* cry.
Because that’s what she is. "*Mate*!" I say, not even realizing that I’ve shifted to my human form as she looks at me open-mouthed.
I thought that because I was turned and not born a Werewolf, I wouldn’t have my fated mate. When I first learned about this type of soulmate thing, I thought it was a silly legend. Or that it only happened to those born Werewolves. None of the Werewolf turned in Razor’s pack had a fated mate, but then again, thinking about it, his pack wasn’t a place for that.
And now here she is. Dressed in a red fucking dress that I can’t wait to tear off, with a gun slung across her body that carries a gun behind her like a heroine straight out of my teenage dreams.
Fuck me.
She is sexy as hell. I’m dying to get my hands and mouth on her perfect boobs. 
When can we get to the mate bond night part? I still as I realize she’s staring at me.
Shit. 
Have I said that out loud? 
I need to know everything about her. And it’s more than simple want. I want her, yes. But I also want to protect her. 
What is this feeling? 
I want to consume her, taking her into me so deep that I may finally find the peace I so desperately sought. In Razor’s pack, I was called the Lone Wolf for a reason.
And now I’m desperate to know my fated mate’s name so I have to know what to get tattooed on my heart. 
Okay, that shit is even corny to me. There’s never been a woman who’s kept my attention before. Maybe that says something bad about me. But hell, this isn’t any woman. 
This is *my* woman. 
I assume someone so gorgeous like her wouldn’t be alone for long. I’m not shocked that this dead fucker marked her already. But that was *his* mistake. I’ve made sure to solve this problem quickly. From her horrified voice as she called his name, I could tell it was a loss for her. Well, it was a gain for me.
Before I was turned into a Werewolf, I’d always have this dream that one day I’d share a simple life with a simple woman like Mom and Dad. One who’d make me apple pie, watch the game with me, then suck my cock. 
I have simple needs. 
I was the easygoing one of my siblings. Until those fuckers killed my family. 
But I made a vow to myself to not get lost in that hell. To not become a monster like them. And seeing this hot goddess as my mate makes me even feel more about myself again, as odd as it sounds.
But as quickly as I have shifted back, I return to my furry skin as the fucker’s sister immediately appears. My work here isn’t done.

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***Violet***

While my wolf has gray fur, his is as white as snow.
While the huge wolf has a patch of gray fur on his forehead, mine has a pure white one.
As though one wolf complements the other in every way.
Yin and yang.
And that isn’t why I stand paralyzed like the Moon Goddess’s statue in the middle of the pack, staring at him without knowing what to do. It is because of his stupid smell.
It prevents me from reacting.
The scent of him swirls around me, rich, alpha, and masculine.
Engulfing. 
Healthy and earthy and a bit rough.
I want to bury my face in the white wolf fur. 
He smells like leather and cedar trees. 
Like my favorite tree in the pack. 
Like freedom. 
Like all my camping and *bucket list dreams I wrote as a little girl*. 
Like... safe.
But then he abruptly kills Jordan. Before my very own eyes.
And I do nothing. Nothing to save the male with whom I shared a life. Nothing to protect the male I have a daughter with.
“Jordan!”
I feel the moment the brush of Jordan’s life appears through the mate bond, then vanishes. The suddenness hits me, violently, like a light flicking on and off. 
It makes me forget what I’m thinking or doing and where I am.
Oh, Goddess, help me!
I’m so confused... What to feel, what to express. 
Is this white wolf my...
“Mate!” His deep voice says, making me look up at his human form.
Goddess do help me!
He’s so hot! I take a brief moment to study his naked body, from his broad shoulders to his beefy biceps. All of him is thick and muscular. But it is his face that calls to me. 
He has shoulder-length blonde hair that can really use a haircut and a blonde fucking beard.
And his eyes... his meadow green eyes... the same color as Allie’s.
Suddenly, I remember the first time I saw her eyes, how they looked so perfect. 
My mind recalls me what Roxy said in my head that day, *‘Something in her eyes makes me feel something I can’t explain. Oddly familiar... They’re so beautiful!’*
This memory goes away as a new one quickly comes in. In this memory, Allie was telling me a story about her family while we were shopping for clothes for her the first time we went out together. She told me that when she was eight, one of her brothers, who was eleven and was always in his own world, tripped, and his orange juice had splashed right across the front of her new dress. Allie said her mom had saved for months to buy that princess dress. I remember now that it was a little bit difficult for me to relate to her since I never had money issues. 
Then Allie told me that little Allie was horrified. But her brother was more, and said he would fix it. She said she and her brothers were really close. He tried everything to make it up to her before he looked guiltily at her and said he was really sorry when realized his attempts weren't working. 
If it is Ian, ha! I’d have probably punched him hard in the face. But sweet Allie told me that she was softened by the sincerity in his eyes and hugged him because she didn’t want her big brother to feel bad.
I recall my hand resting over her bony shoulder, feeling sad for her. And gladly, I didn’t know the feeling of losing a brother like her.
But then, when I asked her what his name was and she said it, I repeat it now in my mind like the same way I repeat after her that day.
*Cedar*.
My eyes dilate that day and dilate right now as they stare at him.  
I don’t need confirmation. Although I’ve never seen him before, this is her brother.
But unlike Allie’s bright, innocent eyes, Cedar’s aren’t harmless. 
It’s shameless.
The big male before me has that sexy glint in his eyes like he’s about to say something cocky. It’s just more than I can take. It’s hard to breathe. He’s too fucking handsome.