The Alpha's Commoner Bride
The exiled prince finds my shirt collar within the darkness of the cellar and he throws me aside, onto the floor, my head hitting the concrete enough to make me blink back stars.
I don’t see his face, only hearing his voice, “Stay the hell out of my mind, whore,” he snaps.
I flinch, expecting a hit. Sorry, Alpha, I link in embarrassment, my mouth still tied shut.
I spot him through the darkness as my eyes adjust out of the memory, his nose tipped up in the air, drawing a long inhale. “I can smell your arousal.”
My heart sputters. Wh—What arousal, Alpha?
Bab Populer