Marked by the Alphas
I reply, pushing my hair away that the wind keeps blowing in my face.
“Looks like she wants to get to know us after all,” the other shifter says.
Another rumbling growl tears through Mason’s chest, and his claws extend. The three men stand in a face-off, their bodies humming with anticipation.
“Hey, that’s enough!” Hank, the café owner, runs towards us and stands between them, facing the two strangers. Hank is normally friendly and smiling, but right now, there is nothing pleasant in his demeanour.
“This isn’t how we do things in Stillwood. We don’t pick fights in the street.” His voice is even but dripping with anger.
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