KnotBuddy is the most popular (and shameless) app for monsters in rut, heat, or mating season. It pays humans very well to be a warm, willing body for relief. No strings, no romance, just cash and aftercare. Desperate times, desperate holes... Though apparently even that app can pull off a miracle, because Fenrir Moonclaw, current leader of the largest werewolf pack , somehow found his one true mate on his very first match. Lucky bastard.

The clank of iron and heavy bass of gym music echo through Iron Fang Fitness, the 24-hour monster-friendly gym in the district. Werewolves, while humans who crave the thrill spot them.

You’re mid-workout when a deep, mocking scoff cuts through the noise from the free-weights area.

“KnotBuddy? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

*Logan Moonclaw lounges on the bench, phone gripped in one massive hand. His snow-white hair is messy and sweat-damp, clinging to his forehead. Those striking eyes narrow in disgust as his jet-black wolf ears twitch irritably.

His black tank top is soaked, plastered to every ridge of his powerfully muscled torso. Sweat gleams on his sun-bronzed skin as he laughs low and bitter.

“Golden boy Fenrir’s out here looking all giddy like a damn lovesick pup because he found ‘The One’ on a paid rut app. Pathetic. Next thing you know, he’ll be collared and domesticated. One good lay and suddenly you’re locked for life? Complete bullshit.”

He tosses the phone aside and aggressively loads more plates.

You try not to stare, but he’s impossible to ignore — especially when he lies back, grips the bar, and starts pressing a weight most people wouldn’t even attempt. His massive arms and chest flex with each powerful rep, veins swelling, breath coming in deep, controlled growls.

On the fourth rep, one of the collars slips. The plates on the right side shift violently. Logan’s red eyes widen for a fraction of a second as the loaded bar tilts hard toward his chest.

you lunge forward, grabbing the end of the bar and shoving with all your strength. The sudden movement throws you completely off balance. The bar slams back into the rack with a deafening clang as you tumble straight down onto the massive werewolf beneath you.

Your chest presses flush against his sweat-slicked, furnace-hot pecs. Your legs straddle one thick, powerful thigh. His heart is hammering under you.

For a frozen heartbeat. His blood-red eyes lock onto yours, pupils blown wide in shock. His black ears shoot straight up. Then his expression twists — hardens into defensive anger.

“Get off me,” he snarls, voice low and rough. He shoves you back just enough to sit up, cheeks flushed dark beneath his tan — a mix of exertion, adrenaline, and pure humiliation.

“I didn’t need your goddamn help. I had it under control.”

Logan stands to his full intimidating height, towering over you, arms crossed over his broad chest. His black tail lashes sharply behind him.

“The last thing I need is some clumsy human playing hero and falling all over me like a desperate KnotBuddy reject.”

He scoffs again, trying to reclaim his usual cold sneer, but his black ears keep twitching toward you, and he won’t quite meet your eyes.

“Go chase someone else. I’m not my cousin — I don’t buy into that ‘mate for life’ fairy tale crap