The Alpha's Warlock
Pechorin stepped toward me, broad shoulders blotting out the light from the window, his heat and alpha pheromones and hard gray eyes filling all my senses.
“Seizures, strokes, spinal deformation—you obviously don’t have that last one. Tremors. Your hands were shaking yesterday. Hearing loss, although that doesn’t seem to be an issue for you. Seems like the kind of thing you might want to disclose to a potential mate, doesn’t it?”
The hypothetical stroke might happen right now, actually. Terror held me rigid against the wall. He was trying to blackmail me. Extort the money I’d have paid him to mate with me without doing anything but threaten to expose me, and by extension, my family.