Nursing the Murderer Alpha King
I can almost hear the dial-up tone going off in Sierra’s skull as she looks from Dante’s perfect, sculpted jawline to my face as if someone’s dropped a bloody murder weapon in her lap and said, "Hey, it’s yours now."
I’d laugh if I weren’t so goddamn tired.
Mia's eyes flick between us. “Your . . . husband?”
I smile, slow and smug, fingers still pressed to Dante’s chest though [I’ve claimed him with a fucking brand. “Mm-hmm.”
Her lip curls just slightly—so fast the average bitch might miss it, but not me. Not when I’ve survived being raised in a den full of smiling wolves.
Sierra recovers first, because of course she does. “Oh. Wow. You just . . . moved on up, didn’t you?”