Crown of the Luna; my mate wants me dead
Every hallway she walked down, every corner she turned, there was another boy—sometimes two, sometimes three—waiting with hopeful smiles.
“Leora, I’ve admired you for a long time,” one said boldly, stepping in front of her with a grin.
“You should give me a chance,” another cut in, puffing out his chest. “I’d make a strong mate.”
One wolf even held out a small wrapped box with trembling hands. “For you, Luna. Just… think about me, please.”
“Luna, allow me to carry your books.”
“No, Luna, I should. My family’s bloodline is strongest.”
Bab Populer