I focus on the sweet flowing bond, and in my mind, I curl my fingers around it, and with all my might, I draw it to me. Darragh squares his shoulders and firms his jaw. He comes to me. He strides between the tables, every inch an alpha, packmates bending their necks out of instinct, those hungry for rank darting him challenging glances, but only out of the corners of their eyes. Females thrust their tits up, their fingers moving to fuss with their hair.
