Breaking The Mate Bond
he said, like that magically made her presence acceptable.
Now she held court in our great hall like some proclaimed Luna—hosting alliance dinners where betas from neighboring packs bowed to her, not me. Our mating bond was never publicly announced, so most assumed the golden-furred socialite was the real Mrs. Clarke.
Tonight, I caught them in the war room, heads bent over a territory map. "Rebecca!" Her fangy smile made my hackles rise. "We're designing my new howling gallery. You must contribute!"