HAYES
I am the Alpha of the Blackthorn pack. I have ripped the throats out of feral rogues with my bare teeth, survived a silver-threaded explosive blast that would have turned a lesser man into ash, and commanded three thousand loyal warriors who drop to their knees when my jaw so much as ticks.
Yet, for the last forty-eight hours, I have been ducking behind a three-hundred-year-old velvet tapestry in my own western corridor like a pathetic, obsessed scout.
All because my un-shifted omega wife refuses to look at me.
Down the long expanse of the stone hallway, Ciara strode past the high arched windows, her sharp ice-blue silk skirts snapping around her ankles with every elegant, furious step. She didn’t look left. She didn’t look right. She carried a massive leather-bound historical te
