Betrothed To The Alpha King
Ryan suggests, tacking on a hasty, “no offense, Your Majesty.”
“He doesn’t get to take offense in here,” I remind Ryan. “Remember, this is informal.”
“Well, who has better handwriting?” Nathan demands, annoyed. He sits in the chair next to mine.
I just shrug. “Not me, that’s for sure.”
Hannah gets up, erases the nightmare scribbles, and sets about making three columns. She titles them, “werewolves,” “thralls,” and “unknown.”
“She was born for this,” I whisper to Nathan.
Bab Populer