Third Person's POV
Seraphina actually had a toy boy on the side?! And she was spamming her feed with him every day?
Damn it. What kind of spineless, bottom-feeding scrap of a man would throw away his dignity to be a side-piece for a mated woman?
Mortimer felt like his lungs were about to detonate. His blood was literally flowing backward.
He let out a jagged, gravelly snarl—the sound of a cornered beast—trailing a toxic cloud of high-end bourbon and lethal Alpha pheromones as he spun around.
He gripped his phone so hard the titanium frame groaned, his knuckles white as he tried to scroll through Seraphina's profile.
But when he hit her landing page, he was met with a wall of blank, healing centeral white.
A single, horizontal grey line. A digital "Keep Out" sign. She'd blocked him.
