CHAPTER 60: HAZEL

“You know, if you are going to keep coming down here and bugging me, you could at least tell

me your name,” Hazel grumbled, struggling to speak past the growing dry lump in her throat. Still tied

to the chair in the dark, damp, and disgusting basement, the Italian werewolf had been her only

company for days. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable, thirsty, and hungry. Only her witch

was helping to keep her strength up with its aggression and its desire to rip out the asshole’s throat.

“Well, I do suppose you are right,” the black-haired man shrugged and smirked at her. Hazel

struggled not to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw the water bottle he was holding in his

hand. “It’s not exactly like you can run off and go telling anyone about me, is it?”

Hazel bit the inside of her dried lip to stop herself from snapping at him that he was the biggest

dick she had ever met in her life and that was saying something because some of the men in her own

pack could be pretty bad wh