SEYMOR'S FOOLISH THOUGHTS of enjoying the union of his Alpha to his witchy mate were long gone.
After lurking in every nook and cranny of the back alley, his soaking wet clothes and his grumbling stomach were the least of his concerns. In fact, he did not think about it until now. Instead, he was bombarded by the maddening thoughts of thousands of different scenarios of his conclusion should they find Diana Ritchell heavily wounded, captured, or worst… dead.
A crazy alpha was a disaster, but a mad crazy Alpha Dylan Cain? That was simply a premise for the end of the fucking world.
Alpha Dylan's clenching jaws were a telltale sign that his beast wanted to last out. With the connection blocked and her scent was covered by the heavy downpour of rain – it was not looking for their search party of two.
