The Alpha's Misplaced Mate
The witch repeats, looking at all of the people present.
"Yes," Conrad states firmly, not giving anyone else a chance to interrupt or say no.
The witch eyes her before carrying over some glass jars, sitting on the ground in between them.
"This is going to hurt. I'm going to do my best to minimise the pain," she informs them, and Conrad inhales nervously.
Charlotte takes her hand, smiling at her encouragingly.
The witch begins murmuring words in a language Conrad doesn't recognise.
It sounds Germanic, and that's as far as her thought process can go, suddenly overcome with a striking, stabbing pain in her ribs.
Bab Populer