Hope
Tessa yanks open another drawer, pulling out yet another bland pantsuit. Navy blue this time. She holds it up like it’s a prize. “Do you think this one’s better?”
I’m sitting cross-legged on her bed, trying to look helpful. It’s hard.
My wolf huffs her displeasure at the human frivolity of picking an outfit.
Run, she demands.
In a minute, Tessa needs us.
I eye the suit and wince inwardly. “It looks like all the others you rejected.”
She frowns, her eyebrows dipping in the center. “No, it doesn’t. This one has pinstripes.”
I tilt my head. “Pinstripes. Right. Are you f*****g with me, or do you want to look like you're balancing finances for fun?”
“I want the King to take me seriously,” she says, turning toward the mirror. “I need him to see me as an Alpha, not some female tryin
