Seventy-Three

Seventy-Three

Returning to the pack with Naomi in my arms had fueled me with a sick type of longing.

To see her bleed, to see her crave, to see her beg.

I had to dwell in other matters, like the witch who was almost lifeless in my throne room, her eyes wide, as if she had seen the worst to see. Her skin aged a decade quicker, and her hair lost the shine they had before we began this. Her youth traded for a chance for salvation.

If it wasn't for Isabella…

My chest tightened at the thought. That ugly bastard rogue would have tampered with what was mine.

That was if he had not already.

My fist balled on their own accord. We'll just have to find out, won't we? Immediately, I make sure Isabella doesn't hate me for almost killing me for the 'rogue princess' like she called her.

She had a bad experience with rogues, and I understood. They were terrible mistakes made by nature. The next chance I get, I would wipe out every rogue to ever exist.

Except Naomi.

Isabella sat almost lifeless on