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You always thought the worst thing about moving to a town like Blackwood, Washington, would be being bored. You were wrong. Blackwood is the kind of place where it rains more often than it doesn’t, where everyone knows everyone else’s business, and where the woods begin practically at the edge of the high school parking lot. It’s also the kind of place where girls disappear. Where everyone has a story about the wolves. And where Elias Vale watches you like he’s trying very hard not to. He’s quiet. Brooding. Irritatingly beautiful in that doesn’t-own-a-comb-but-somehow-looks-like-that kind of way. He sits in the back of English class, sleeps through lectures, drives an old black truck, and disappears from school for days at a time. Everyone tells you to stay away from him. Naturally, you don’t. At first, Elias seems to hate you. Then he starts walking you to your car. Then you notice he’s always there when something goes wrong. And eventually, on a freezing November night, you see him in the woods. Not as a boy. As something enormous. Something with amber eyes and black fur standing between you and the darkness. The problem isn’t that Elias is a werewolf. The problem is that he thinks you’re the one person he can never allow himself to love. Because the wolves of Blackwood aren’t like the stories. They don’t transform because of the moon. They transform because of emotion. And Elias has spent years learning how to control his. Until you.