Claimed by the Ruthless Alpha Prince
Kieran doesn’t look pleased, but he nods.
I SIT in Kael’s study, my fingers twisting together as I watch his expression morph from disbelief to grim acceptance. Kieran is seated beside me, his hand resting on my thigh—always touching, always claiming. Was he always this possessive? This touchy-feely? I can’t remember him being quite so physical before the marking, but now it’s like he can’t help himself. His hand is always on me somewhere—my thigh, my waist, the nape of my neck—as if he needs contact to be able to breathe.
“This is an incredible story,” Kael finally says, leaning back in his chair. His jaw is set, and I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.