Cosette’s POV

I slammed the door to my tiny quarters harder than I meant to, the cheap wood rattling like it was about to splinter. My hands were still shaking from that disaster in the Alpha’s bathroom—Luther, naked as the day he was born, standing there like some carved statue come to life. Not that I cared about seeing him like that. Please. Luther was my Alpha, sure, but he wasn’t my type. Too brooding, too intense, too everything. No romantic sparks here, thank you very much. But ...