The whole manor reeks of her.
Heat. Desire. Defiance.
Even the wood creaks beneath Vera’s bare feet as she prowls through the halls barefoot and half naked, her entire body thrumming with fury.
Her lips are chapped. Her thighs are slick. Her ego is well and f*****g gone.
And her cunt?
Is still sore. Is still swollen. Is still empty.
And her Alpha?
Sits right where she knows he will—on his throne in the great hall, shirtless and spread out like some cocky monarch with no fear of insurrection.
There are witnesses.
Three Betas sprawl at the foot of the dais, drinking and talking and acting bored.
They all freeze when she appears.
Vera doesn’t even blink.
Climbs the steps, right up into Rael’s lap, and straddles his hips like it’s what she was born to do.
He doesn’t move her.
He
