Ivan
"Are you alright, Alpha king?" Psyche approached cautiously, holding a goblet-shaped cup in her hands.
"I would prefer if you call me Ivan," I corrected, looking away from the lights. I'd tried seeing more but couldn't focus. So now, I'd spent all this time trying to understand why I was seeing a dragon. "Alpha king isn't something I'm comfortable being called yet."
"But you are the Alpha king. This is what you are. We all see it when we look at you," She frowned, confused. She hesitantly stood with the cup, unsure what to do before continuing. "It is your Amtawi. You're Sara."
My purpose and destiny.
I found myself chuckling at that, amused at the irony that wherever I go, I end up having to face that concept. How often have I heard that in my life? I'm twenty-five, and everyone gives me the same spill. It used to be that I was destined to be Sebryanyy Kinzhal's Alpha. Then, I was supposed to be the King of Werewolves. Now, I don't know what my destiny is supposed to be.
