Still, she wouldn’t let us protect her from this one. Not fully.
“I’m not a flower, Rett,” she’d whispered the night before, curled on top of me, her mouth soft against my neck. “I’m a f*****g forest fire.”
And I believed her.
But still. I was the guy who would burn the world if it so much as brushed her the wrong way.
So tonight, as we waited in near silence, the tension clawing at my skin like a second layer of nerves, I kept my senses wired.
Angelica was in the sky.
Our quiet, deadly dragon shifter. She’d flown high above the Winter Pack’s territory all evening, her wings cutting through the night air without a whisper of sound. Her obsidian scales blended into the starless sky. No one could see her, not without magic. But she could see everything.
And she did.
She saw the movem
