Page 112 of Redfang Royal


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Those bloodless cheeks.

Before she pulled her shit together, she flashed a haunted gaze that summoned my ghosts and froze me dead.

Overwhelmingly not fucking normal.

I can’t let her any closer.

At least, not until I figure out why she isn’t riding the same wave of wild instinct.

I want to trade bites so desperately, I’d let her bleed my collar red and never bleach it clean.

The possible reasons she’s holding back pinch the tube of my throat.

I hope it’s not that dark.

Maybe she’s playing rich girl games, protecting herself the same way I’m about to protect our pack.

Until I know for sure, she’s banned from meeting Dutch.

He can’t forget the beta we never had.

One whiff of our scent-matched mate?

He’ll be a simp for life, and I don’t want to watch him die inside when the princess pushes him away.

I’m the only one who gets to torture our boy.

I wash until my hands sting, tissue-thin skin barely holding in my drumming pulse.

That’s when Jin tosses a clean apron over my shoulder and shoves the can opener into my chest. “We’re making tacos. Go drain some beans.”

“Go drain some beans,” I mock, toweling off and tying on the apron to protect my shirt.

Senior would have an aneurysm.

His heir, doing kitchen labor?

Hmm.

I’d better chop lettuce, too.

I’ll send him a letter with all the food service details.

See if I can make his head explode.

When my hands are busy, my chest loosens. But my ears never relax. I tense when our princess leaves her bedroom, tip-toeing to the bath.

The sound destroys my focus, and I’m not the only one.

We stare through the wall.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Guarding.

If she doesn’t open up to us, we’re fucked.

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