Chasing His Rejected Luna
One sat comfortably on his lap, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest.
The Mad King.
“Leave us,” he said lazily, waving a dismissive hand toward the men at the table.
They hesitated, then stood. Each bowed slightly in his direction before filing out, throwing me sharp, resentful looks as they passed.
“Dante,” the Mad King added, glancing toward my beta.
I moved forward and took the seat opposite him without waiting for permission. Dante stepped up beside me, standing tall and silent. The women watched us with open curiosity, exchanging soft giggles that grated on my nerves.