Bride Of The Damned Alpha
Dame raised our locked hands with exaggerated pride, his thumb pressing into my wrist like I was a mere trophy, not a woman.
My vision blurred, but I refused to cry. I would not give him that satisfaction.
"You may now mark your mate," the priest announced, hesitant, almost regretful.
Dame's grin widened. "With pleasure."
I froze.
He turned to me, brushing my hair off my shoulder. My entire body recoiled on the inside, but I stood still, because that's what good daughters did, they sacrificed.
I clenched my fists and shut my eyes.
He grabbed my shoulder, making me lean into him. His teeth grazed my neck, then trailed to my collarbone.
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