The heat

"Why?!!!" I roared out my frustration and prowled across the room like a caged animal, then back again, stopping only to hurl a bottle of hundred-year-old Scotch across the room at a bookcase. I watched the glass break, amber liquid saturating the books and yelled at the top of my lungs, "Why her?! Why couldn't it be anybody but her?!" Clearly, the Moon had it out for me, the sly bitch. Because there was no more hilarious mistake than making that female my mate!

My father sat reclined in a comfortable chair, utterly unaffected by my foul mood. When he could get a word in edgewise, he asked evenly, "Are you ready to tell me why you're having a temper tantrum like a two-year-old and destroying the study?"

I growled and flashed fang.

Instantly, he was on his feet and in my face, a sustained growl reverberating in his chest. Even in his fifties, the man was cut with rugged bulk and muscle, hewn and cultivated over thirty years as Alpha of Adamant Moon. He was respected, and he was feared.