Fated To My Alpha Enemy
The shift in the air, a heaviness in my chest, they all made sense.
The crowd parted like the sea itself bowed to him as he walked towards the forefront and stood.
Alpha Ryker Blackthorn.
Tall, powerfully built. Dressed in pitch-black leathers that fit like they were tailored to wrap around death itself. His hair was midnight-dark, tousled like he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes, gods, those eyes were carved from winter. No warmth, no flicker of curiosity, just ice and piercing. He was beautiful, sinfully handsome.
Bab Populer