Rejected By My Mate, Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets
The air outside was crisp, the sun barely up, but Knox was already at the training field like a goddamn rooster with too much energy and an ego to match.
He sat tall on his shiny black stallion, the horse obviously imported or pampered or both. Its mane looked like it had been styled. Meanwhile, the one they assigned to me—a chestnut mare with one eye that blinked slower than a dying light bulb—looked like it came straight out of retirement from farm duty.
“You’re late,” Knox said, grinning down at me as I mounted. “Is that the best they could give you, or did you lose a bet?”
“Good morning to you too,” I muttered, adjusting the reins.