The Butcher's Bride
aureusan heir for the alpha; winning her love againbetrayed from birth alpha's unvalued daughterhiding my twin pups from their alpha dad novel
The vibrations of the road hummed through the floor, rattling my teeth.
Opposite me sat Vargo.
He was cleaning his fingernails with a small, serrated knife. He had removed his tactical helmet, revealing a pale, hairless scalp and eyes that looked like wet stones. He watched me with a predatory amusement, like a cat that had finally cornered a particularly troublesome mouse.
"You're quiet," Vargo observed, his voice smooth as oil. "Most prisoners scream. Or beg. Or bargain."
"I'm not a prisoner," I said, my voice flat. "I'm the fiancée of your Alpha. I'm coming home."