There was nothing else. Just golden eyes, as luminous as the first inches of sunrise breaking over the horizon.
Faceless, yet achingly familiar, they brought crashing waves of serenity to the shores of my discontent. I craved them during my waking hours with the same turbulent longing I felt facing them, because altogether, they felt like home.
My dream would end, and they would disappear again.Until then, all I knew were captivating golden eyes.
YOU ARE READING
My Woodland Alpha (ONGOING)
WerewolfFor a smallest second Alaia paused to admire the seething man that stood before her. His bare chest rose and fell heavily, glistening beguilingly with sweat. She couldn't stop her eyes from taking in his broad shoulders, chiseled chest or his glorio...
