The Rogue Alpha, far more powerful than his name suggested to most, was feared for good reason. He had defeated enough Alphas, in fights to the death, to earn his reputation as a fearsome individual.
He had been planning to take over Midnight Moon for a decade, maybe more. Ever since the case of mistaken identity many years ago he had waited for his mate to make good on her promise, the only reason she had survived her deception was that she was Alpha Bret's mate. He had been looking forward to marking her, now that her former Alpha was disposed of. Then she had to go and get killed, and it had taken enormous amounts of strength to pull her from the clutches of death. She would take a bit longer than usual to heal, as it was with dark magic. Dark magic was about tearing apart, not mending together. He had the healer, Christie, working on her. As weak as she was, he had to admit he needed the old woman. He hated having to admit that as much as he hated the truth of it.
