Tristan Conwyn’s sharp gray eyes locked onto the woman beside his enemy, Sergei Ivanov. She was stunning, and something primal stirred within him. As a nine-tailed Kitsune, he trusted his instincts—they told him she belonged to him. Ignoring Sergei’s glare, he approached “You light up the room. I haven’t looked away since I saw you.” Smirking, he offered his hand “Come sit with me.” Tristan always got what he wanted “I would love to get to know you better, my dear.”
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