THE UNBROKEN THREAD
Emilia Marcusthe omega he rejected, the white wolf he cravesalpha wolf looking in mirrorwerewolves going crazy over mealpha wolf and his mate
The looks, the quiet hostility.
A rejected mate was a bad omen. I reached the well and wrapped the rope around my palms, the fibres bit into my skin as I began to pull, the bucket rose slowly, heavy with water.
Halfway up, my arms trembled, my strength failed, dark spots crept into my vision, my foot slipped against the wet stone, the bucket lurched and I pitched forward, as if on cue, a hand caught my arm.“Careful,” a warrior said, steadying me. “You’re barely standing.” “I’m fine,” I answered quickly, trying to pull away.
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