The Alpha King's Breeder
Blake
Moonlight plays over Marianna’s naked skin. She’s like a painting–flawless, almost airbrushed. Ethereal and all-consuming even at rest. The moon is full and high in the sky as I trace my fingertips over the curve of her breasts and down to her navel, then lower, where I flatten my hand between her hips, closing my eyes against the anguish soaring through my body, through my wolf. Even the stars go silent, giving me space to grieve the life I tried and failed to give her–them. Marianna, Skye, and… the two boys currently nestled deep in her womb. Boys she won’t know about for weeks still.
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