Valerius's scent lingered on her skin, invading my nostrils like poison. My wolf clawed against my ribcage, demanding retribution. The sight of her—my mate—walking toward us in another Alpha's oversized clothes nearly broke my self-control.
Mine. Ours. Not his.
The clothes she wore hung off her small frame, the sleeves rolled up several times. The pants were cinched at her waist with what looked like a makeshift belt. Every inch of the fabric reeked of him.
"Seraphina." My voice came out as a growl, rage bubbling beneath the surface. "What the fuck are you wearing?"
Her eyes, defiant as ever, met mine without wavering. "Clothes."
One word. That's all she gave us.
Ronan stepped forward, his jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. "Why are you wearing his clothes?"
"Where are your clothes?" Orion demanded, his eyes scanning her from head to toe, taking in the evidence of another male's possession.
