Alpha's Cursed Bride
She was three, all giggles and silver eyes, already shifting into a tiny silver pup when excited.
The great hall was full, the pack loud with plans for the harvest festival. Mara had arrived the night before with her mate and their grown pups, and the Ironclaw warriors mingled easily with ours. Laughter echoed off the rafters, the smell of fresh bread and bacon filling the air.
But I felt it before the scout burst through the doors—a prickle on my skin, the warmth in my chest stirring, restless.
“Alpha!” the scout gasped, blood streaking his face, his eyes wide. “At the northern border. Shadows. Like the eclipse night. They’re… they’re speaking.”
Bab Populer