Page 141 of King Alejandro

“Good plan,” Kiara added, about to lead me away when she paused, seeing the woman hobble slightly. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take a look at it? I’m a… doctor,” she offered, making my gaze snap to her.

“Yeah, I’m good, five by five,” Poppy replied, but it was obvious Kiara didn’t believe her. Now that she mentioned it, she did seem to be limping a bit ever since she knocked into me. Kiara reached over with her free hand, touching the younger woman’s arm, and I sensed her healing aura around her.

Don’t, Kia.

Just a little… she’s still in pain,she said to me as she smiled softly at Poppy.

Let’s go.Kiara nodded, but she paused, looking at the man.

“One more thing… it’s a free world, and if I choose to wear a crop top or walk around in nothing but lingerie, that’s my choice. You should learn to keep your eyes to yourself. At least to show respect to the woman you are with,” she said. Her voice held confidence, a small smile graced her plump lips, and her eyes held a confident spark of defiance as she stared up at the huge man fearlessly.That’s my queen, dauntless, strong, and fucking perfect.I was done with this.

“Come on, Amore Mio, let’s go.”

Casting a murderous glare at the arrogant fucker, my eyes flashed red before I looked away quickly. My hand slipped around her waist, pulling her close and away from the couple.

“Fucker,” I muttered as we reached our awaiting car, and I opened the door for Kiara.

“What was all that about?” I heard the man say. But it was the woman’s reply that made me pause.

“Werewolves.”

“That was so strange,” Kiara whispered as I got in after her.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I glanced at the driver. “Let’s head back to Milan.” With that, I sat back as he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“You know that man looked like an alpha,” Kiara mused quietly, settling back against me.

“Nah, like his woman said, he’s on steroids.”

“She didn’t say that… you said that,” Kiara reminded me, smirking. “Are you jealous he was so big but was human?”

“He was shorter than me.”

“No, he wasn’t. I mean a little bit only.” She burst out laughing, clearly enjoying teasing me. “But you’re right, he was a teensy tiny bit shorter… but he was a real Italian.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Weren’t you born and raised in England? So that makes you British, doesn’t it?”

“I’m Italian and, yeah, British,” I growled, knowing she was pushing my buttons and fucking succeeding. She smirked.

“Well, either way, I like my British Italian more,” she whispered, leaning up and planting a soft kiss on my jaw.

“Yeah, you fucking should,” I replied as she sat back and opened her bag of pastries. “They were a fucking weird couple. He looked old enough to be her fucking dad.”

“Alejandro! Isn’t that kind of hypocritical considering you are sixteen years older than me?”

“I don’t fucking look it.”

“True.” She pouted, and I smirked. One fucking win for me.

“He was a fucking dick.”

“I do agree, but I guess he just needs someone to tame him.” She smiled, her attention falling to her bag of treats. “But the man in the bakery was so sweet. Oh look, he even put in a few extras!” She held up the bag, her eyes sparkling, and I couldn’t resist the small smile that crossed my lips. It was good to see her so fucking happy. I just hoped, with all the shit that went down earlier, that things didn’t get any worse. “So, we head home now?” She asked me, biting into one of the cream-filled pastries.

“Yeah. We got the answers we needed, so we head back.”