CALEB
I'd faced down rival Alphas and negotiated treaties where one wrong word meant bloodshed. But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared me for the primal satisfaction coursing through me as I held Savannah against my chest, her heart still racing from our joining. Twenty-five years of being the "responsible twin," and here I was, office destroyed, mate claimed, feeling like an asshole who slept with his brother's wife behind his back.
My meticulously organized office looked like the aftermath of an intensely localized tornado. Papers everywhere. Ergonomic chair—the one expense I'd justified to Kalel as "necessary for pack administration"—overturned in the corner. The solid oak desk had proven impressively sturdy, though. Five stars, would recommend.
She fit perfectly against me, her
