Hired to Guard Her

I sued his pack. I got their bodyguards banned from every human courtroom in the district. And now the only thing standing between me and a coven of hired killers is Ronan Vex, the enforcer I named on page one of my complaint. He's six-foot-five of silver-eyed arrogance, he sheds on my couch, and he thinks witches are a plague on the legal system. I think lycans are a liability with fangs. We have thirty days and one townhouse. Then he takes a hex meant for me, shifts in my living room to burn it out, and I see the man under the wolf. The coven doesn't want me dead. They want the grimoire my mother left me, and Ronan's pack has been hiding it for two hundred years. He is going to have to choose between his alpha and me. I already know what I'm choosing.