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32

I froze as I laid eyes on the shirtless Alpha. I had seen countless shirtless men on the Kings’ compound, but none of those men held a candle to Night. His body was all hard muscle, defined and tight. I now had a much better view of his tattoo and the way that the heavy, black lines sliced across each other. The tattoo spilled across his shoulder onto his chest and down his arm, where it ended in a thick, black band around his wrist. Old scars slashed across his chest, stomach, and shoulders.

My gaze slowly followed the trail of dark hair that ran between his washboard abs down to the hard “v” that I’d read about in the books I’d borrowed from Mom’s personal library. In those books, the woman always went crazy for the body of her man—looking at Night, I thought I finally understood exactly why. My gaze lingered around the waistband of his black sweats, and my face went hot. This man was a god.

Night made a low sound, something between a scoff and a growl, and my eyes snapped back up t
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