The Alpha's Contract Mistress
In the headmistress office, a five-year-old girl with black hair and brown eyes, sat with her mother who looked to be a few years older than I was.
“I didn’t say you could come in,” the headmistress was saying until her gaze landed on Gideon and she immediately rose to her feet, “Beta.” She bowed, “Please, come in.”
“Just who I was waiting to meet,” the woman seated with her kid said, clearly enraged. “So, I come to pick my daughter up and they tell me she got ‘bitten’ by a fellow dance mate—look, I know we are werewolves but we aren’t wild animals and this cannot be tolerated.” She argued.
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