A Dorm With My Alpha Mate
I found a stream with water so cold it burned but I drank, I cleaned my wounds as best I could, then tore a strip from my undershirt and bound my leg, the pain was a sharp, clarifying companion and it meant I was still alive.
The heart of the Ironwood was a clearing that wasn’t a clearing, the trees formed a perfect, hateful circle around a flat stone dais and on that dais, suspended by dark chains from a wooden frame, was Luma.
Her head was bowed, her warrior’s frame limp, blood crusted her temples but her chest rose and fell, she’s alive.
Standing before her, hands clasped behind his back as if admiring a painting, was Malrick.
He turned as I stumbled from the tree line, a slow, satisfied