The Lycan King’s Broken Mate
“Your place can be in the storeroom, with protection, with constant escort, with whispering behind your back… or it can be with me, with protection and rank, without anyone spitting filth at you in the kitchen corridors. That is what I call an offer, and for fuck’s sake, that is the reality.”
“The reality is,” I replied — and for the first time, I stood up, because I couldn’t deliver such a long sentence sitting without my throat shaking — “that I don’t want status from you, I don’t want clothing, I don’t want a separate room. I only want what your paper outside promises to everyone: that I may work and be left alone, and if someone breaks the rules, consequences fall on them, not me, and I