“Alpha Callahan,” Larson greeted him before his eyes landed on me. First there was surprise, and then obvious hunger. “This is your daughter?”
“Indeed. Nyx Callahan, my glittering gem.”
I almost vomited at the sound of fake pride in his voice. Instead, I bowed my head and curtsied as much as I could without ripping the fabric of my dress.
“I’m sure you’ll find she’ll make an excellent mate for you.”
That was why we were all there: for Larson to choose his wife, and from what my father told me, there weren’t many women for him to choose from. At least, none with my pedigree, as he liked to say.
He didn’t mean the pedigree from my mother. She, according to him, was nothing more than a tramp hitchhiking on the side of the road. But he’d come from a long line of alphas, practically royalt
