Where is my sister:

Michael

However, King Donald’s mind

seemed to slip in and out, distracted momentarily. It had been like this since morning.

The blur memory of a person. Her scent still lingering in his head... His beast momentarily growling at the surface. A touch.

What was it?

Was it the slave?

"You're not really listening," I spoke, drawing out a file to attend to. "Is there something wrong?"

King Donald paused, letting out a sigh. "Someone touched my face."

I ...