THE BEAST’S CURSED SLAVE
“I can never touch you, you filthy bastard.”
Rhazien’s voice dropped, a cruel amusement flickering in his pale eyes. “You’ll scream, little wolf.”
As his breath brushed past her ear, something colder raged under her skin. A presence heavier and darker. It wasn’t Rhazien.
He’s here.
Kaerith’s stomach twisted. She couldn’t see him, but she felt his presence—the Beast's presence.
Rhazien leaned in, close enough she could feel the heat of his breath.
“Fear clings to you,” he whispered, inhaling deeply as his face tilted as if savoring it. “And it smells… beautiful.”