“I’m not yours,” I say, not liking the way he uses words.

“Clearly,” he smirks. “I can hear my King’s moans of pleasures. You’ve been doing such a great job in that regard.”

I glower at him. Tasteless. Is there nothing good that comes out of his mouth? But what should I expect? He even said something so vulgar to his own leader!

“Why are you calling Brandon Stine a Leader? Shouldn’t it be General?” I ask.

“He’s my leader during my mercenary days.”

“And you’re not a General?”

“I’m not the type to lead.”

“Clearly,” I mimic.

He leers. “A cheeky she-wolf. I like that.”

He approaches me, and...