The Mad Lycan Plus-Size Mate
She gave him a weak, submissive smile, the kind she had probably practiced in front of her bedroom mirror.
"What is your name?" Valerius asked. His voice was a low, dry rumble that vibrated right through the soles of my boots.
"L-Lydia, Your Majesty," she stammered, her voice shaking with cold. "Daughter of Beta Marcus of the Western—"
"You are shivering," Valerius cut her off. His voice wasn't angry; it was bored. "Your bones are like twigs. One week of our winter and you will rot from the inside."