Marigold listened for Jaime’s words. “Well, Lady Mari. I was once a hero among many, dubbed as the Mad King’s Hand, and the Kingslayer who saved the pack from his fire. If it were up to him, the pack would’ve been burned alive and burned to the ground.” She winced in sympathy. “So he was dethroned, my sister instead ruled with her husband, and I was their commander. I’m very, very . . . interested in getting to know you. Inside and out.” At these words, Mari flushed.
“I’m, erm, very . . . very, um, uh-” she stuttered. “Very interested, too.” Her cheeks burned. She could smell a faint hint of his pheromones. “I-as I was saying, me too . . .” Honestly, when was she such an embarrassed little wreck? Was this the soulmate thread? Surely it wouldn’t last forever; she didn’t want to be a bumbling idiot for the duration of her tie to him. However long that might be.

“All you ever did was wreck me-yeah you, you wreck me . . .”