The Alpha King's Breeder
Monica smirks, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches another woman, a young maid or something, start scrubbing sand from my hair for a fourth time.
“Wh-why is it-it so c-c-cold?” I stammer through chattering teeth.
“It’s filtered water, that’s why.” She untangles her arms and knocks on the doorframe, her pretty, angular face shining with pride. “This ship might look like something out of the stone-age, but it’s high-tech. We have running water aboard. Engines below if we need more power than the sails can provide.”
“Do-do you have w-warm water, by chance?”
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