Lucas strides into the room from behind the wearied nurse. His presence is much as I remember—like a lion surveying his territory, confident in his domination over everything in his sight.
This is the Alpha.
Even after everything that's happened, the sight of him still sends a ripple of attraction and unease through me, a reminder of our complicated history.
But this time, there's a huge part of me that wants to dash over and lift my head, baring my neck to him. To roll and rub against him with whimpers of submission.
I shove that part deep into a dark hole inside of me and close the fucking door.
Lucas moves with such fluid grace, despite his towering height—he's at least six-three, rivaling Alpha Renard's imposing ability to loom.
His hair is tousled, falling into a loose mess around his face and shoulders, and judging by the dark circles beneath his amber eyes, he's been up all night.
And speaking of his eyes…
