The alpha stalks across his cell as I pass, his eyes dark. I’m only a few paces away when he says something. I halt. “What?” For a moment, all I can hear is the horrible panting sound from the next cell. “He won’t touch you,” says the alpha—his voice barely audible. “Who?” “Sebastian. He won’t touch you.” His tone is so dark, so certain. I turn to face him—raising my head to meet his gaze. “He is to be my husband,” I say softly. Again, I am reminded of the rugged mountains when I look at him. His stance is dominant, powerful, and his face could be carved from rock. His eyes, though. . . those
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Oooop
