Kali
I was going to kill him.
Red was not my color. Not that I couldn’t pull it off—I could pull off almost any color, and the dress looked spectacular on me. It scalloped over my chest, squeezed my rib cage, and flowed over my hips. All eyes would be on me.
That would be new.
Traditionally speaking, nobody stared at me. Nobody dared to because King Cyrus was my alpha. Everyone would greet me, but heads would bow, and eyes would avert. I could have been stark naked in the middle of a room, and if Cyrus were present, not one wolf would have looked my way.
Normally, I liked being invisible. There was power in invisibility. Nobody was my alpha tonight, and I was dressed in red—red satin, of all the atrocities. Like I would ever wear anything so gauche, and unless Cyrus was punishing me,
