A WOLFLESS MATE FOR THE LYCAN KING
Mira said in a trembling whisper.
Before I had a chance to ask who, the door slammed open.
Amelia.
My sister, or rather, the girl my father adopted after rescuing her during a rogue attack, strode in.
She was clad in expensive garments, her silky black hair pinned up in perfection.
“Get out, Mira,” Amelia ordered.
Mira obeyed quietly. She grabbed her tray and left, casting one last scornful look at Amelia.
“It’s good to see you miserable like this,” Amelia taunted.