Wreckage of Us
She chartered a plane to escape the man who was suffocating her.
She never made it.
Sloane Sterling had a corner office, a controlling fianc , and a life so perfectly curated it was killing her from the inside out. A three-day trip to an Alaskan lodge was supposed to be a breath of air. Instead, the engine died at fourteen thousand feet, and the bush pilot crashed them into the Brooks Range in the dead of winter.
No radio. No rescue. Minus forty.
Garrick Thorne doesn't do people. He flies planes, lives alone, and hasn't touched another human being in years. When his Cessna goes down with a city girl in the back seat, she becomes his responsibility - a fragile, freezing liability he has to keep alive whether he wants to or not.
But Sloane Sterling is not fragile. And the cold has a way of burning everything down to what's real.
Body heat becomes currency. Proximity becomes necessity. The shelter is too small for two strangers, but too cold for one. Night after night, survival strips away every wall - modesty, distance, the polite fictions that keep civilized people apart. What replaces them is not gentle. Not safe. Not anything either of them would have chosen in the world they came from.
It is feral. Possessive. Built from starvation and shared warmth and the desperate, primal need to keep the only other heartbeat in the world from going silent.
Twenty-six days. No rescue. No rules. No going back.
When the helicopter finally comes, Sloane discovers something worse than the cold: the life she left behind is still waiting for her. The fianc . The family. The cage. And the man who rebuilt her from the wreckage is three thousand miles away, deciding whether to let civilization have her - or come take her back.
This is not a safe book. This is not a gentle love story. This is what happens when the cold burns everything away except instinct - and instinct chooses him.
Book 1 of the Bone & Ember series.
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