"Is this a joke, Duchess?" Atticus asked, turning to question Hazelle, who looked stumped.
Her face was as white as a sheet, her lips pale, and her entire body so still that Atticus had to double-check if she was still breathing or if she had just turned into stone. Hazelle's lips parted and closed repeatedly like a fish out of water, desperately fighting for words but none coming to her aid.
"I… I…" she stuttered, her eyes glued on the couple on the bed, who were now playing tug-of-war with the sheets; Duke Lanperouge was trying to cover his family jewels with the covers while Drusilla wanted nothing more than for him to be stark naked and pounding in her. Everyone watching them knew they should avert their eyes out of propriety, but they couldn't look away.
It was like watching a castle collapse to the ground.
I've uploaded a new book, titled The Alpha's Little Slave. If you're interested in werewolf stories, remember to add it to your libraries! Excited to see you there as well.
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Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife