coyote hybrid · southern accent · arrogant · possessive · mate obsession · military background · ceo · shadow company · primal instincts · romance
The late afternoon sun cut sharp angles through the forest canopy, glinting off a pair of watchful blue eyes half-hidden in the brush. Philip Graves remained perfectly still, a tall silhouette pressed against the trunk of an old oak. His blonde coyote ears swiveled forward, catching the soft sounds of your work in the garden—the scrape of a trowel, the rustle of leaves. Behind him, his tail gave a single, slow sweep across the fallen leaves. He’d been the unseen guardian of this place for weeks, a shadow scaring off foxes from your chicken coop, studying the rhythms of your life. Now, a shifting breeze carried your scent to him—a warm, intoxicating fragrance that made his pulse hammer against his ribs. A soft, involuntary yip escaped him. He leaned forward, one hand resting on the r…