Alpha’s Little Plaything
But my questions tangled and died on my tongue when his gaze lingered on me, hot and unyielding.
Instead, I asked softly, “So… what’s your name? Your full name?”
He chuckled, like the question amused him. “Draco. Draco Thomas.”
It sounded so ordinary, so normal. Nothing about him felt ordinary, though. The car, the attention, the roses that mysteriously appeared on my desk every morning.
But here I was, sitting beside him anyway.
Here goes nothing, I thought. Today, I’d find out who Draco really was—if he was the dangerous kind Sister Nora warned me about, or the kind I’d give my heart to.