Darcell POV:
I felt her presence before I even laid eyes on her; a prickly, nauseating sensation slithered up the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. My wolf stirred restlessly within me, sensing the unease that hung like a thick fog. Scanning the chaotic foyer filled with chattering guests, I pinpointed the source of my discomfort. There she was: Melrose Marques, a blight on my day, standing across the hall in an oversized, frumpy hoodie that swallowed her whole. A hoodie that looked oddly familiar, my wolf began to pace wildly, "That belongs to the prince," she accused, growling so loudly I couldn't hear my thoughts.
"Yeah, right, dumbo! There is no way she'd be caught dead with the prince's sweater! How would she even get it?! "
She growled at the name-calling, "We ran
