Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince
All those years of being trained in my pack won’t be wasted.
The full moon peeks down at us through dark storm clouds, under the canopies of twisting trees that are short enough to brush the top of our heads as we ride atop these horses. The cold wind rustles the leaves, and if you listen close enough they almost sound like whispers of the tree souls.
“Seems like it’s going to rain, Your Highness. We shall return as soon as possible,” a beta guard voices out, inching closer on his own horse.
Ruelle scoffs, sparing a single glance at the clouds above before declaring, “If it rains, we shall dance under it, Fredrick.”
الفصول الرائجة