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Tell Nikolaj some alphas named Jack and Colton have been dicking me down, knotting me up, and munching my ass in circles.
Redfang alphas in suits and earpieces stop the limo at the gatehouse, using a long-poled mirror to check underneath for bombs.
That’s just the titty-tip of this shit-berg.
I’m used to cameras, electric fences, and armed guards.
Stun a few dudes and hop the wrought-iron fence?
Cake.
But I count twenty cartel soldiers on my side of the lawn. That’s way more than I can smack down with my firepower weakened in the open air.
Then there are the dogs, led by teams of enforcers.
I couldn’t fake past them in a dress lined with tenderloin.
Animals loathe my pheromones.
Cats. Squirrels. Birds.
Once, on a training hike, a pissed-off prairie dog tried to gnaw through my boot.
I’m the opposite of one of those fairy-tale princesses.
As the limo coasts down the long drive, every leashed killer perks its ears like my shoved-down pheromones are sounding the dinner whistle.
Knew I was due for a new leading role.
Next up: chew toy.
“Is something wrong?” Marie cuts into my doom stare.
I recover with a hair flip. “What’s with the security?”
“The guests are…distinguished.” She suppresses a shudder. “And you, of course. You’re Master Redfang’s precious heiress, and you’ve never made a public social appearance. Everyone’s dying to meet you.”
Sure. There’ll be lots of dying.
Marie’s pep strains as tight as my nerves.
The limo stops at the mansion’s back door. As soon as we climb out, armed Redfangs flood the steps, pulling Marie for a pat-down.
I’m prepared to princess-shriek, “IT’S TAMPONS!” if the grizzly alphas come anywhere near the syringe case strapped high on my thigh.
But either my innocent face is on point or Serafina Redfang is allowed to smuggle weapons. The alphas let me inside without a rub-down.
Marie escorts me upstairs, then instantly bails. “I’m off to receive the packs. The beauty team will get you settled.”
With door guards eyeing me, all I can do is enter. The fussy parlor overflows with doilies and the floral scents of four ultra-submissive betas waiting to serve me with their heads bowed.
“Leave,” I snap before they can twitch. “I’ll do it myself.”
“Yes, Princess.” They bow out, freeing me from their pheromones and the need to be touched by strangers.
I pry apart the curtains.
A door leads to an outside balcony, but it’s no good as an escape route. With the sunlight long gone, the thorn-lined gardens are well-lit and just as well patrolled.
