Alpha Ethan
I need him to like me if I am to escape execution, and to avoid going back to Marius.
Be bold, I tell myself, though my insides are twisting and a storm is billowing in my chest. Be bold.
I raise my chin as all gazes turn to the back of the Great Hall.
The Wolf King steps through the wooden doors.
He looks like no king I have encountered before. Tall and muscular, he wears no crown or fancy jewels, and dresses simply in a cream shirt and kilt. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing tattoos inked on his corded forearms. His tangled hair is brown, and it brushes his powerful shoulders. I cannot quite tell his age, but I’d wager he is around thirty.
Bab Populer