The Rogue Alpha’s Chubby Luna
My hands burned like they were on fire.
Footsteps approached my cot softly.
“Sit up, foolish girl.”
Turning my head, I saw Martha standing next to the bed. The senior maid from the archive room held a small, dark glass jar in her hands. She wore her crisp grey uniform, looking stern and unimpressed.
“Leave me alone, Martha,” I whispered, my voice cracking from sheer exhaustion. “I am too tired to argue with you tonight.”
“I am not here to argue,” Martha stated flatly. “Sit up.”