“Well, there you are, Alaura,” The rumbling tenor of the green-robed devil vibrated in Rían’s chest, stoking the rage that had ignited once she had revealed that this man was her father. And he was seeing red; his hands unsheathing their claws as they fisted, festering in the urge to rip King Honore Tatiane to shreds. Although he wasn’t wearing any regal crown or draped in robes, no one could deny this man was of importance, with the way he held himself, that haughty lift of his chin as he regarded Jenaveve down the bridge of his nose. Arrogant son of a bítch! Discovering that he was also a Karanlık made for bigger problems with just how exactly he was going to kick his ass, but that was just all schematics.
Because there was no scenario in which Honore was leaving these woods alive. This
