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... out.


Wu Tong calmly pulled out his phone and, after checking the caller ID, his eyebrows smoothened out. Clearly, his mood had improved significantly. He spoke on the phone in a gentle and patient tone, completely different from the tone he used earlier to threaten Jiang Yang and Qin Xu.


It was only a short conversation, but the onlookers could clearly sense how special the person on the other end must be for Wu Tong. A hint of a smile was evident in his eyes and it was as i ...

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Lu Hanyao is cool and low-key, the most noble man in the capital.

At the age of 25, he fell in love with a girl who was ascetic as he was.

The girl is young and immature, weak and harmless, a delicate flower that will cry when touched.

He took the girl to his side, guarded him day and night, pampered her meticulously, finally waited for the girl to grow up, and prepared to marry someone into the door. The girl who had always been well-behaved and docile unexpectedly ran away before getting married.

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Su Zhi: “Men will only affect my money and career.”

Lu Hanyao: “My surname is Shimingye, and I am super rich.”

Su Zhi:? ? ?

Lu Hanyao: “Welcome to do it.”

The friend reminded Lu Hanyao overtly and secretly, “Su Zhi’s being with you is just for your money.”

With a cigarette between his fingers, Lu Hanyao smiled triumphantly: “There are so many rich people, but she only covets my money, and it’s not because she likes me.”

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*****

He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

“Elia,” she breathed.

“Elia,” he growled, leaning in closer, bringing with him the scent of pine and rain and the musk of something distinctly male. “I am Reth.” He said the name with a strange, guttural roll in his throat. “I am King of Beasts. I am Clan Leader, and I am Alpha of WildWood.” Several snarls rose from the crowds behind him then, but he ignored them.

Elia swallowed as he leaned in until the scruff on his jaw rasped her cheek. “I am the King,” he said, “And you will be my mate.”

The forest behind him erupted.