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WIP Spotlight: A Wolf Without Faith

I’ve been scrolling through my current Works in Progress, to see what I might be able to share with you.

A Wolf Without Faith is a paranormal shifter MPreg romance with a difference. The shifter, in this case, is not the one with all the power. He’s not the strong Alpha character that readers are used to.

 This is book one in a two-part series (at the moment) called Nynnyaw.



Owin is fed up of being treated like trash by his werewolf boyfriend. Living in a world full of supernatural creatures, he’s sick of not having any control over his relationship just because he’s a human. When his boyfriend, Nevan, cheats on him with the pathetic excuse of wanting pups with another werewolf, it’s the end of the line.

His attempt at revenge – hooking up with a stranger at a club – ends in disaster when his one night stand turns out to be another wolf shifter, and bites him.

A wolf without instincts, a man out of control, and an Alpha who can’t rule…

Carney isn’t a normal wolf. Born a lycan and kidnapped by werewolves as a child, he no longer has the connection to his inner wolf that he should. Biting Owin is against the law and a terrible crime, because Carney is no longer able to offer the final turning bite himself.

But trying to ease Owin into a life he didn’t want is made all the more complicated when his presence drags up unwelcome memories form Carney’s childhood. Together, they have to figure out if they can function as a successful couple or if their past won’t just come back to haunt them, but will come back to kill them.

One messed up pack and a war on the brink might not be enough to save a wolf without faith.





Chapter 1


Nevan wasn’t going to like it. Not one bit. But Owin was sick of taking his boyfriend into account, whenever he was out on the town. He’d been faithful and loyal for nearly a whole year and what did it get him? Cheated on.

With a skanky blonde girl, no less.

All of Nevan’s excuses for his behaviour were sickening, so Owin came here. To club Growler; some sort of cross between a gay bar and a prowler bar, according to the advertisements he’d seen on Nevan’s laptop. Not that he was supposed to be here or on his boyfriend’s laptop, either, but he’d lost the ability to care. The club looked fun and the rules displayed on the site were simple to follow.

So here he was, in a club he’d never even heard of before, eyeing up the hotties at the bar. He wore a blue tie, handed to him when he arrived. Most other clubs just stamped a hand or wrist and had it over with, but this place was special. The tie wasn’t just admission, but a visual display of his dominant nature, the blue a representation of his preference to be a bottom in any hook up that might occur.

The group of four boys at the bar, three deep in conversation while the fourth sat alone, all wore dickie bows; the sign of submissive natures. The three boys together had the deep green colour of pure submission. Boys that would do anything for a partner, whether of a one night stand or more permanent nature. The loner, however, had what the rules on the website claimed was a very rare colour – grey. Grey, from what Owin could remember meant that he wasn’t looking for anyone at all. It was a sign of someone who was only a submissive because they didn’t want to dominate. And Owin didn’t really know what that meant. Especially in this context.

Growler was very clearly a hook-up spot for gay men, so why would this sad looking man be here, if he wasn’t interested in any action?

Though six men grabbed Owin’s interest throughout the night, two even joining him at the table, he couldn’t stop thinking about Mr Grey. He was gorgeous, with that stylishly messy hair, closely shaved on either side and left long to flop over his eyes or be styled up on top; beautiful pouty lips and sad grey eyes. Despite the excess of hair on his forearms, his bushy brows and a decently attractive beard, he was pretty much Owin’s ideal man in the looks department.

“You look preoccupied,” one of the men noticed, smiling right up to his green eyes, only accentuated by his green dickie bow. When he didn’t answer right away, too busy watching Mr Grey finish his third drink of the last hour, a hand cupped his face and turned him until he faced Mr Green.

Owin couldn’t remember his name. But when he was kissed, he allowed it and appreciated the soft, compliant lips that parted beneath his. He appreciated it all the more when Mr Green turned him towards Mr Orange – a switch – who also kissed him.

Reaching up with one hand, Owin grasped Mr Orange’s hair and deepened the kiss, as Mr Green took his glass of whiskey from his free hand. Since it was free, he only moaned his approval when it was drawn down to cup Mr Green’s hard dick, pushing through the fabric of his trousers.

Dragging his hand away, Owin got to his feet and stepped past Mr Green, leaving both him and Mr Orange confused. Until he reached the other side of the table and smiled. “Coming?” he asked, heading towards the back of the club, where there were private rooms.

Both boys grinned and followed eagerly. They were almost at the door leading to the private rooms when Owin caught a reflection in the mirrored door. Mr Grey was getting up and paying his bill. If he ever planned to solve the mystery of that strange man, it had to be now. “You boys go ahead and have fun. I have to do something, before I join you,” he said, turning round and heading for the bar.

Though he could sense eyes on his back, almost feel the frustration of his two companions, he couldn’t help himself. He felt compelled to follow Mr Grey, who chatted politely with the barman. From their body language, Owin guessed they knew each other, but that sad look never left Mr Grey.

What part of Growler didn’t suit this man? It was an old class Gentleman’s club, with private rooms for fooling around, great music and atmosphere, a dance floor and a bar. It had any number of hot men, all sporting different preferences and all looking more than willing for a quick fumble on the dance floor or in a booth. Why had Mr Grey come here if not to indulge in the decadence of this place?

Half the men wore suits and the other half wore suits that were being partially removed by their companions. Men looked sexy as fuck in a suit, so the appeal of the appropriate apparel for this place wasn’t lost to Owin. So how could Mr Grey not see it?

Stepping up beside the sad man, he caught his elbow and whispered in his ear. “You leaving?”

Mr Grey shivered and broke off his conversation with the barman abruptly, to turn his way. “Yes,” he replied, looking caught between unsure and terrified.

“Want to come back to my place?” he asked, in a whisper.

There was no point playing games or beating around the bush; they were both here to get laid. Owin to get back at Nevan for his affair and this guy probably to brighten his life, which seemed so sad and lonely. Why pretend that conversation was important when all they wanted was to use each other for their own gains?

Mr Grey nodded, though his eyes were even sadder than before. As though, somehow, Owin’s offer was out of pity. It wasn’t as if he’d missed the fact that Mr Grey’s eyes never left him, the moment the man spotted him in the club. He wouldn’t lie; it had been intriguing to see the constant glances in his direction, the discreet smiles whenever he heard Owin laugh or their eyes met across the room. Mr Grey always looked away, though, keeping his distance, and Owin wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d been trying to draw his attention. It just hadn’t worked the way he’d planned.

Placing his hand on the small of Mr Grey’s back, Owin guided him towards the exit. At the door, he handed over his tie, while the bouncer simply nodded to Mr Grey and smiled in a consoling sort of way.

“It was a pleasure to see you again, sir. I do hope you had a nice time,” he said, with a heavy dose of sincerity, as though he cared about Mr Grey.

Owin watched the exchange, curious and wondering if these two had history.

“It was lovely to see you too, Llewelyn,” he responded, completely bypassing any comment on whether he’d had a nice time or not. He simply walked out the door, tie still in place, and stalled only when he realised Owin wasn’t right behind him.

He stepped into place by Mr Grey’s side and walked out to the parking lot with him. “Did you bring your car?” he asked.

“Don’t have one,” Mr Grey said, with a smile.

“Right. We can take mine,” he decided, confused as to how any man in his late twenties or early thirties, as Mr Grey was, didn’t own a car. It was yet another mystery to add to the already growing enigma of Mr Grey. Owin dug into his trouser pocket for his car keys, then pressed the unlock button, to try to remember where he’d parked. As the lights flashed, they both walked towards the expensive Jaguar. Mr Grey’s mouth tightened a little, but Owin couldn’t figure out why. And it was beginning to get annoying.

“I’m Carney, by the way,” he said, as Owin opened his door and let him slip into the passenger seat. He flashed a sweet smile of gratitude, then watched Owin walk around the car and get into the driver’s seat. “What’s your name?”


Carney nodded, but kept quiet, leaving a tense atmosphere and nothing but silence to keep them company for the next ten minutes.

By the time they reached Owin’s apartment complex, he regretted his choice. Instead of two hot subs writhing beneath him, he’d lumped himself with Mr Grey. A quiet, unsure man, who looked as though someone had just kicked his puppy. And, though Owin was the type of man to protect whatever was his, he had a feeling Mr Grey – or rather, Carney – was not only the man with a weird name, but also the type too afraid to get involved.

He was a loser. A wimp. The sad, lonely man that most people ignored until he became invisible. Then he simply slipped away one day, never to come back and no one would know that he’d died a natural death at home, undiscovered for God knew how long, because no one cared enough to visit or call or get suspicious. He was the guy who didn’t exist. The guy no one remembered.

So what fluke had made Owin notice him?

Shaking his head, he figured he might as well see it through, since they’d come this far. Owin opened the driver’s door and got out, only to find Carney already standing outside the passenger door.

“Um…this way,” he said, nodding towards the parking lot elevator. He wasn’t sure what to say to this man that he didn’t know, had no chemistry with and would never pick for a one night stand in a million years.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

Carney smiled in that docile, pleasant way as he followed Owin towards the elevator, standing by his side like some kind of business man waiting to reach his office. The silence and the way he stood there, so prim and proper, so unconcerned with what they were doing, began to grate on Owin’s last nerve.

He ground his teeth, trying to keep it together, as the elevator finally pinged for his floor. As he inserted his key into the door, he briefly considered turning round and telling Carney to fuck off back home or to Growler, because he was no fun. But then he thought about what he’d lost to be here with Mr Grey and refused to do that. He wasn’t giving up a hot threesome for a night of no sex.

Owin walked into his apartment and was glad to see Carney followed him inside, closing the door behind him. He was so fucking calm and collected that Owin couldn’t help himself; he removed his own suit jacket and unbuttoned his white shirt. While Carney let his gaze wander the expensive living suite, the open plan kitchen, the floor to ceiling view of the city on the far end of the room, Owin got naked.

Leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, he advanced on Carney, who blinked in surprise, then steadily watched Owin undress him. The grey dickie bow was ripped off with a little more anger than he should have done it. But that stupid tie had been the cause of this and he wanted that fucker gone.

“Where would you like to–” Carney asked, already undoing his trousers, while Owin undid the buttons on his shirt.

It was the first sensible thing he’d said, so Owin looked around and figured making it to the bedroom was probably out of the question. He needed to be fucked soon or his temper would get the better of him. It was much better to channel those feelings elsewhere.

“The sofa,” he decided. That would save having to explain to Nevan that his one night stand of revenge had been in their bed. After all, he was looking to hurt the bastard with his fling, not destroy their relationship entirely. And, for all of Nevan’s pathetic actions of late, he hadn’t fucked the blonde in their bed either. Or even in their apartment.

Once Carney was naked, sporting a glorious body under that suit of his, Owin gave himself a moment to just look and appreciate. They were the same height, but Carney was actually much more filled out than he’d realised; great arm and thigh muscles, a strong six pack that looked good enough to nibble on and even a light trail of hair down his chest, trailing off around his six pack before picking up again around the base of his cock. And what a glorious thing that was.

Owin reached out and touched it, taking all seven inches into his hand and squeezing ever so slightly. God, it was a thing of beauty and he wanted to suck it all night. Then spend the entire next day being pounded by it, until he couldn’t sit down without thinking about that thing being inside him.

Carney shivered and, when Owin looked up to meet his gaze, his grey eyes had become a startling shade of silver that surprised him. As did the hand that grasped his hair and hauled him into a wild, sloppy kiss.

Not that he cared. As his mouth was ravaged by Carney’s, he succumbed to the pleasure of finding a man of raw need and desire under the perfect suit and collected countenance.

Maybe he hadn’t made the wrong choice, after all?


About the Author

Elaine White is the author of multi-genre romance, covering everything from paranormal, crime and contemporary. Growing up in a small town and fighting cancer in her early teens taught her that life is short and dreams should be pursued. Living vicariously through her independent, and often hellion characters, she lives comfortably at home with a pack of wolves cleverly disguised as one standard poodle.

The Winner of two Watty Awards – Collector’s Dream (An Unpredictable Life) and Hidden Gem (Faithfully) – and an Honourable Mention in 2016’s Rainbow Awards (A Royal Craving) she has explored the worlds of multiple genres, but remains a romantic at heart. A self-professed geek, Elaine has fallen in love with reading and writing LGBT romance, offering diversity in both genre and character within her stories.


You can keep in touch with Elaine on the following sites:



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