Marcel's pov
The drive to the Black Moon Pack was long and silent, but I didn't mind. I wouldn't have had it any other way; after all, what was there for me and the lady beside me to talk about?
Christina was her name—a weird name for a werewolf, but who was I to judge? She was shifted as far from me as she could, squeezing herself against the door like she couldn't stand being in my presence, and yet I knew she felt the electricity sizzling between us.
This would certainly be a fun adventure with her. I would love to watch her fight her attraction to me and know that, in the end, she would bend to my will. Everyone always did.
I took the last bend, the gates of our pack house looming before us—tall and imposing against the backdrop of the setting sun. That was how long it took to get
