Seraphine's POV
After days of intense heat, Theodore had thoroughly claimed every inch of my body. The wolf wore that insufferable satisfied expression whenever his gaze found mine. His scent clung to my skin so completely that any werewolf within miles would immediately recognize his mark on me.
His desperate need to breed me had nothing to do with continuing his bloodline for political reasons. This was primal instinct taking over, his wolf demanding to fill my womb with his offspring. Pure biological imperative.
Standing before the mirror, I catalogued the evidence of his possession scattered across my flesh. Bruises painted my throat and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Bite marks decorated my collarbones. Meanwhile, he lounged shamelessly on the bed, only a thin sheet draped over his lower half, that arrogant smirk never leaving his lips. His eyes traveled down my naked form like he was admiring a masterpiece he had created. The bastard.
