whispers beneath the moon
She arched a brow as she scribbled her signature on one of the documents.
“And from the marks and hickeys on your neck,” she added, smirking, “I’m pretty sure the days we didn’t see you in the office, you were having the best time of your life.”
I rolled my eyes, leaning back. “Wow, you can roll your eyes now? Penelope is really rubbing off on you.”
“You need to find your mate, Freya. Then you’ll understand.”
Her glare was sharp, but behind it was a flicker of pain. “No thanks. He—or she—is probably dead after all this while.” She said it like it meant nothing, but her eyes betrayed her.
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