Staring at Darcy kneeling in front of him, her voice a vacuous echo as she recited the words from an aged, yellowed scroll in her hand, Adrian felt himself becoming more and more fascinated with her the more she read. More drawn to her. More desirous to kiss her painted lips as he watched them move, more seduced by her dark eyes whenever she happened to sneak a peek over the parchment, had more of a craving for his tongue to lick along her slender neck and sink his teeth into it to make her his mate!
No! Darcy is not our kamará! a growl reverberated through his thoughts. A voice that was not his own.
At first, Adrian was confused, mentally seeking out the speaker within his head. Though as he spun in circles, searching, he couldn’t make out anything within the hazy, clouded storm of his
