Fated To The Cursed Lycan King
I hadn’t returned any of his texts or calls since yesterday.
My stomach growled the moment I smelled the food. Brian walked in with two giant takeout bags like a hero, unbothered that I hadn’t moved to welcome him.
“Okay,” he said, kicking the door shut with his foot. “We’ve got grilled goat meat, peppered chicken, turkey wings, gizzard skewers, plantains, and enough sauce to drown your sorrows in.”
“You robbed a restaurant?”
“I robbed five,” he said with a straight face. “Now sit up and eat like your life depends on it.”