Mist and Marrow (Breaking Tradition #2) Read Online Mary Calmes

Categories Genre: Fantasy, M-M Romance, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Breaking Tradition Series by Mary Calmes

Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

(Breaking Tradition #2) Mist and Marrow

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Mary Calmes

Book Information:

Linden Van Doren is in a strange position. He’s an emancipated omega holding down two jobs, so he should be out from under anyone’s thumb but in reality, there are still weird lupine rules to follow. For instance, if an alpha wants to court him, he’s not allowed to say no. If that same alpha asks for his hand in bonding, however, as there’s no contract that anyone holds but him, he can certainly say no to that. And would. He trusts no alpha to keep their word even though they’re the only ones who could make his dreams come true. It’s all very confusing and a bit ridiculous but until all omegas are free to do whatever they want with their lives, his odd circumstances are the norm. He’s also doing his very small part to help others—and that just became a problem.
Wade Massey is a homicide detective with the Chicago PD. He’s partners with Avery Davenport, which puts him in close, continual contact with Avery’s friend, Linden Van Doren. Wade isn’t sure what it is about Linden that drives him nuts. And annoying the hell out of the stunning omega should make Wade want to stay away from him. The problem is, he can’t seem to do that. Besides, Linden needs a keeper. Wade has never actually met anyone who needs someone looking out for them more and really, no one but Wade can be trusted to do it and keep their hands off the tantalizing man.
When the FBI comes knocking because omegas have gone missing, Wade finds out that Linden has been far more active in the fight to help other omegas than he imagined. When both men are drafted to help, they are suddenly thrown together in a situation where, for once, neither of them can walk away. Wade’s been great at making excuses and Linny’s been fantastic about hiding his feelings. None of that works anymore.
Linden knows he wants Wade—he knew the night the possessive human carried him out of hell—but loving someone who can never return his feelings is stupid and Linden’s finished with that. Wade’s never been attracted to a man before and perhaps it’s not desire or lust, but simply his protective instincts gone wild. If neither of them can be brave, there’s no hope for the future. But perhaps just winnowing through the mist of confusion down to the marrow where the truth lies will set them both free.

***Trigger Warning: Discussion of repeated sexual abuse of a main character, including when he was a minor. No abuse occurs on page.
Books in Series:

Breaking Tradition Series by Mary Calmes

Books by Author:

Mary Calmes



Whenever I heard people say, “I wasn’t made for hard labor, or life on a farm, or even being in love,” I always thought… the thing I wasn’t made for was running. Running was vile. There was no part of it I enjoyed. Even when I was a wolf, I always worried about what I was running through or in. What if I got Lyme disease from a tick? What if my fur got all sticky from some gross oozing weed or tree? Really, the whole experience was simply revolting. No self-respecting omega, of which I was one, was raised to break a sweat in any form they took, man or beast. We weren’t even supposed to glisten. If one had to indulge in gardening—another pastime I never understood—the only acceptable interaction between the outdoors and dirt actually took place inside, as in a greenhouse with temperature-controlled everything and the spritz like the veggies got from the produce section of the grocery store. Not that I’d ever shopped for anything but art, fashion, or jewelry… or eye cream, but I’d seen it on television.

Omegas were, as a rule, beautiful ornaments that resided in the homes of only the richest alphas. Just because that ship had sailed for me didn’t mean that I suddenly became a person who enjoyed perspiring. At the moment, however, sprinting hand in hand with Miss Tabitha Wellington of the Kinsley-Wellingtons of Mountain Brook, Alabama, a suburb of Birmingham, I could feel the sweat running down my back into the crack of my ass. The only saving grace of my present situation was that my friend Avery Davenport was not around to witness my horror. I would have never heard the end of it if he caught me doing anything so completely out of character as running.

“Luna,” Tabitha whined beside me as we took the stairs up to the L so we could get on the train and take it to Oak Park, “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“You won’t,” I assured her, “because if you do, you have to bond with—what’s his name again?” I asked, hoping to distract her from her swoon.

“Weston Gaines,” she answered, voice cracking with fear.

“Yes, Weston,” I said, thrilled that we’d cleared the top step. If she fainted now, at least I could drag her onto the train. “And didn’t he say he wanted children right away? And you want to go to cooking school, do you not?”

“I do,” she affirmed, and her grip on my hand tightened as we raced onto the L and dropped into a couple of seats as the doors closed and it took off.

“And your dear friend Marnie has graciously set you up at a wonderful school in Miami with the new name we arranged for you, so let’s focus on that.”

Tabitha turned to face me. “I’m so sorry I messed up.”

Slipping my hand from hers, I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “It’s all right, dear. We’re not all born to be James Bond. We don’t do this cloak-and-dagger shit on a regular basis.”

Chuckling, smiling through new tears, she nodded. I was glad she was better, because we still had a bit of maneuvering to do before she was safe.

Normally things were easy. As a rule, even though I was, for all intents and purposes, making people disappear, it wasn’t dangerous. She had made her position, and mine, precarious when she veered off course.

I had been at the art gallery at Eighteenth and Halsted, then walked around the corner on a chilly Thursday morning into Ends of the Earth, my vintage jewelry and antique store, and was on my way toward my office when I found a young woman standing at the jewelry counter. It was not odd to discover people admiring the baubles, but she stood out because she was shivering. Since it was March in Chicago, the fact that she was cold was not a surprise. But even as she stood there trembling, I noted she was still mesmerized by something in the locked, shatterproof glass case.

“You have good taste,” I murmured when I slipped around the corner of the counter alongside her to stare down at the strand of Tahitian saltwater pearls with a diamond clasp.

Her breath caught, and she looked up at my face. I saw it then, the red, swollen eyes, heard her sniffle, and knew, of course, she’d been crying.

“Whatever is the matter, darling?”

Sharp inhale of breath. “I messed up.”

I gave her the warmest smile in my arsenal, which I’d been told by many people still presented as a trifle fake. The problem was, I’d been schooled for so long to keep every emotion locked away that it was difficult, nearly impossible, really, to do away with the artifice. “I’m certain that together we can undo whatever entanglement you currently find yourself in.”