“Are you her, um, Alpha?” the interviewer asks, taking him in. She smells terrified. And aroused.“Sure,” Zane drawls, right as I snort, “He’s more like my babysitter.”“And she’s more like a pain in my— ”“Let’s go,” I nearly scream, tugging at the sleeve of his plaid shirt. He’s the only person in the building not wearing business attire. I’d say he didn’t get the memo, but knowing Zane, he sent it back with I do whatever the fuck I want scribbled all over it. In blood, most likely.In the elevator it’s me, him, and a gaggle of Human agents standing behind us.“Did you know?” he asks under his breath, staring ahead at the doors.My heart plummets. He’s talking about what the geneticist revealed about hybrids having children. I have no clue how, but I’m certain of it. “No.”His jaw shifts from side to side.In the network’s lobby, a valet timidly approaches him. “Sir, your car is waiting outside.”Zane’s eyebrow, the one dissected by scars, arches at an angle that clearly states I’ve
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