REBECCA POV
I was not losing this bet.
“Put me down!” I yelled, pounding on the broad, infuriatingly solid back of the rogue who had just barged into my life—and apparently decided to carry me like a sack of potatoes through half the damn forest.
Riggs didn’t even slow down.
His laugh was deep and rough, like gravel soaked in honey. “Stop squirming, little wolf, before you make me drop you.”
“Oh, please,” I snapped, kicking my legs uselessly in the air. “You’d *love* to drop me just so you can catch me again, wouldn’t you?”
He grunted, which I took as a yes. My wolf, Miranda, was not helping. She was practically wagging her metaphorical tail, all warm and gooey in the back of my mind.
‘Sandalwood and amber,’ she sighed dreamily. ‘He smells like a forest fire I’d die in happy.’
“Oh,
