The Alpha King's Breeder
We have to side-step between the crowd to gain access to the next street.
Blake begins to don his gloves, but I stop him, shaking my head. “She needs to see you as you are. That’s part of the plan, remember?”
He grits his teeth and slides the gloves back in his pocket.
“Having second thoughts?”
“No,” he rasps. It’s impossible to tell what he’s really thinking. His face is set in a mask of indifference as the city bleeds around us. Twin Rivers is a hotbed for nightlife. Bars and clubs rage even in the darkest hours of morning. A group of young women croon at us, but Blake keeps his head down, strategically adjusting his hood to cast his face, especially his eyes, in shadow, and we keep walkin
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