Alpha Scarlett
The truth is, him taking me on my desk sounds like fun, but there are a lot of wolves still up and about the packhouse, and I don’t need them hearing us or getting the scent of sex wafting from my office.
“Follow me”, I say as I take his hand and lead him to the back wall of my office, the entirety of which is a dark mahogany bookcase. Pulling forward a copy of the epic poem “Beowulf”, an otherwise-invisible door opens, revealing a staircase. It’s a hidden passageway that leads up to my suite. My grandfather had it built as a means of both escaping and ambushing attacking enemy packs.
Bab Populer