IsobelleAnother day passed, and I still had mentioned nothing to my parents. I avoided social media altogether, partly so I didn’t have to reply to any messages. At one point, I considered updating my relationship status to ‘It’s complicated’ just to wriggle out of divulging all the details. My daily phone calls were brief, making awkward small talk about the weather. When my mother asked me if I had made any progress with the research project, I froze, unsure of what to say on the spot. This was more than a little white lie; it felt deceitful, withholding a huge part of my life from my family. The guilt consumed me like an ugly parasite, feeding off every insecurity that resurfaced. People would judge me. Nobody would understand. I wasn't ashamed of the Bennett brothers, so why was I keeping them stashed away like they were a dirty little secret? It wasn’t fair to them. Throwing caution to the wind, I grabbed my phone from off the arm of the sofa and began typing out a text message.

IsobelleThe Bennett brothers had lured me to the secret state of Whitehaven under false pretenses. I was supposed to be studying a rare species of wolf, but instead, I was kidnapped by four smoking hot werewolves. The quadruplets were destined to share a mate . . . and fate had chosen me. They grew on me. One by one, they got me to fall for their charms, and in return, they kept me satisfied in and out of bed. They are unique in their quirks. Alex thrives on order and is a true dominant. Grayson is the dirty minded one and a Daddy Dom. Lucas is the strong silent type, who has a passion for painting. Mason is a hopeless romantic, who writes music and reads poetry. I forgave them for kidnapping me and decided to give these horndogs a chance. We’re mated now, and it was love at first bite. They each shared a special night with me, making love to me into the early hours. They marked me, and now I’m theirs. It should have been the start of something beautiful. Yet I’ve felt under the weat

IsobelleHeat? Didn’t only dogs go into heat?“Didn’t you guys know this would happen days after marking her?” She shook her head from side to side, eyeing the boys as if they were all idiots. “I assume your mother sat you down and told you all about the birds and the bees? It’s mating season in Whitevale, am I right? I assume you are still part of the pack.”“B-but Isobelle is human,” Grayson spoke, sounding vulnerable. “Only she-wolves go into heat?”The pain relief had started to take effect. It stopped the burning sensation from getting worse, but it didn’t ease the pressure between my legs. It was still there bubbling beneath the surface, waiting for the meds to wear off.“Not necessarily. You all marked her. That’s four times the shifter venom. Her body seems to be reacting to the bites,” she answered simply.Alex looked horrified. “Are you suggesting she could be turning into one of us?”Dr. Rayne swatted the air. “No. Humans can’t be turned. But no human has been marked by four

Isobelle Lucas stalked around the bed behind Grayson. Seeing them within touching distance made me want to suck them, grab them, and have them take me however they liked. I was theirs, and they were mine. If anyone was going to impregnate me, it would be one of my husbands. Not some random guy from the pack.My blood boiled beneath my skin, racing through my veins like liquid magma. My men gazed upon me with hooded eyes. Alex’s silver, Lucas’s yellow, Mason’s ice-blue, and Grayson’s orange. This was a sign their wolves were right there, scratching at the surface, losing their self-restraint. Writhing on the bed, I stroked between my drenched folds to entice them, tease them, feeling my fingers circle my moistened clit and seeing how their cocks twitched at the slightest movement. Deep, reverberating growls filled the room. It was enough to make me squirm with delight and my sex clenched again, flooding my channel with a fresh gush of warm juices. My men inhaled the scent of my sex, a

Isobelle I should have known. I should have been able to spot all the signs. They were there all along, staring me right in the face all this time. My grandfather’s eyes changed color whenever he got angry, just like the quads. I was convinced I heard him growl on several occasions. My grandma used to joke about the full moon affecting his mood swings, but I thought she was being facetious. He used to disappear for days on end, only to come back with his clothing in tatters and covered in dirt. Nan told us he enjoyed one tipple too many at the Royal British Legion, and that he would wander off in a drunken stupor. These things seemed so trivial as I was growing up, witnessing them occurring time and time again, so often, I had taken them all for granted.There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Mum spoke, “I’m so sorry, Izzy. Can you ever forgive me?”Could I forgive her? Right now, I want to throw a bloody tantrum. How could she keep something like this from me?My