King Dmitri
Never had he dreamed that his granddaughter lived. Eighteen years ago he had received word that his son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter were killed in an attack on their home. Isabella’s body had been taken, denying him the chance to say goodbye to his only grandchild. Repeatedly he had been told that the amount of blood left, and the cleat struggle that ensued, proved she could not have survived.
The moment she had scolded him, taking him to task for his rude behavior, he had known that it was her. She was the spitting image of her mother with her long dark hair and bright eyes, but her attitude was all her grandmother. Until the day of her death, his mate had never let him get away with anything and it was clear their granddaughter was made of the same steel.
Watchi
