And when her sobs finally quieted, he chuckled softly. “Look at you… crying like a newborn wolf pup. What a mess you are.”
His teasing only deepened her pout. She planted her fists on her hips. “I don’t care! Your Luna snatched the treasure I wanted. You owe me tonight!”
The air thickened between them, charged with feral desire.
Riven’s voice dropped to a low growl. “You said it yourself. Don’t beg me to stop later.”
The self-controlled Alpha he was in front of Freya vanished—replaced by the ravenous wolf he became with Sorenna.
Freya stood frozen as she listened—every sound, every gasp, every muffled moan slicing into her chest like fangs.
It was unbearable. When their lovemaking reached its peak, she fled, unable to endure another second.
What she didn’t witness was Sorenna’s next question, asked in a trembling voice, “Do you love me?”
“If I didn’t, why would I be here with you?” Riven replied, lust still clouding his gaze.
Emboldened, she pressed on coyly, “If you had to choose between me and that old she-wolf… who would you pick?”
“Obviously you,” he said without hesitation.
“Then… divorce her. Become my rightful mate,” Sorenna whispered.