Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)

by Raven Kennedy

and my pulse jumps at the ferocious protectiveness streaming from his words, like the warning growl of an alpha wolf.

“My own good was stuck on a pirate ship, with an aura like a beacon that flared across the Barrens,” he grits out, a thick spun voice meant to tie knots around me. “My own good was cowering before men who were nothing—fucking nothing—in comparison to her.”

“I’m saying that you are my own good. And for you, I gave you a choice, but you chose him.”