Carve their hearts. Take their power.
Val has only ever known a Seattle surrounded by the Wilds, dense forests that have consumed most of the human world. Like everyone, she’s heard whispers about the glittering, ruthless kingdoms and dangerous human-like wildlings deep within. But with a sick guardian and money tight, Val’s more than willing to brave the Wilds’ depths, carving and selling magic-filled heart gems from its numerous beasts.
Until one day she wanders too far and Rune finds her.
He’s a wildling, more savage and beautiful than any beast, and he has a deal for her: Val will use her unique abilities to help him take the unclaimed high throne of the Wilds. In return, Rune will let her carve the powerful heart gems of his enemies, something there’s no shortage of.
As Val is thrust into a vicious conflict between Lords, kings, and awakening gods, nothing is as it seems. But both the Wilds and Rune—cruel, kind, broken Rune—hold secrets, and if Val’s not careful it might be her heart she loses next.
Fans of epic adventures with morally gray characters, a lush fantasy world, and a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers romance will love Savage Wild Hearts, the first book in the Savage Wilds series.
Excerpt
The Dreams
When I was younger, I often had nightmares.
I’d awaken covered in sweat, panting like I’d been running through the Wilds, the crash of some beast giving chase at my back.
Though I always awoke moments before its claws grabbed me, it didn’t feel like I’d barely escaped death. It only felt like I was putting it off for one more day, one more hour, one more minute.
To calm myself, I’d check on Peyton sleeping soundly in the other bedroom and Joshua where he curled on the couch, mouth agape, blankets covering him. I’d look out the darkened window at the glittering lights of the other apartments, the city, and Seattle beyond.
Then I’d look the other direction, into the gaping blackness that was the Wilds. When I did that, the other parts of my dream would come back in a swirling rush.
Me, putting my child-sized, bloody hand in Peyton’s, and letting her lead me out of the trees and to safety.
Peyton telling me that my parents were gone, that I was the last survivor of the Wilds that had claimed my home.
A young boy’s face. His eyes—red with flecks of gold, or were they gold with flecks of red?—peering closely at me, his grin wickedly crooked.
Though dreams like that became less frequent the older I got, and the bad memories faded along with them, the feeling of them remained grafted onto my bones: Deep dread and a looming sense of something after me, even though I had no idea what.
Only the boy’s face remained clear. He’d helped me the day Peyton found me, I was sure. He’d helped me, and left me with a warning, his words teasing but edged with menace:
“Careful, little fox. Getting too close to things like me is going to get you hurt.”
If only I’d listened to him.