The Fated Mate of the Ruthless Lycan Prince

o P

er blade piercing my heart

roat, but no sound came

ed and clawed at my chest, expecting

was no

silk nightgown and skin that w

ulent, draped in shadows and moonlight.This

storm, the sharp, clean smell of ozone, and something else. Someth

mind. Conrad Vanderbilt

his hand gentle on my cheek. His soft voice, telling me i

like a piece of meat to the most powerful, most fear

longer useful, he had stood by and watched as hi

o my palms that the sharp sting of pain was a welcome anchor

s al

been r

bedroom. Back on the night it all

across the room swung

from the hallway behind it. He stepped into the room, and the moonlight caugh

Vanderb

o my thoughts, this one familiar

erything alright? Rem

ted to scream at him, to tell him I kn

I di

chest down to a cold, hard ember. I would not b

e silk sheets away and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The nig

m see the stillness in them, the

pped. His brow furrowed in a flicker of conf

out of me, I saw him. He had been there, fighting the ones who killed me.

me the strength

raw from a scream that

thi

a curse or a plea, hung

flickered, replaced by a flicker of stunned surprise

nearby table and poured a glass of water. His movements were stiff, u

and held the

p my arm. My whole body went rigid. I saw his hand flinch, his knuckles white as he g

my lips and drank, the cool water a balm on my parched throat.

one, that my revenge started here. It started wit

glass and lo

id, my voice a li

my head again, laced with i

ne could see. In my mind, I pictured a door, and

le

gaze, my own cal