Celeste stood almost dumbfounded by Syzar’s command, but she couldn’t refuse.
Even though there was brutal pain with each step she took—her legs barely healed from Nyssa’s assault—Syzar’s command was not one she could refute.
She steadied her legs, hiding the wounds with the train of her black dress as she began to walk, biting back each painful step toward the table.
Her palms touched the smooth surface before her face lay flat on it, her backside in the air and presented toward the ruthless male who had watched her every move.
“Alpha…I don’t want to take off my dress—” she started, but was cut short by his presence buzzing right behind her. She felt the heavy grip of his hand on her hips, one that was sure to leave a bruise.
She let out a soft gasp as warm air brushed her chest and
