He frowned up at me. He took the forty dollars from my hand and tucked it into the top of his white socks. His shorts had been shredded. It had been interference from Belle Morte, the originator of Jean-Claude's bloodline, and the first, to my knowledge, possessor of the ardeur.
If we had truly had another territory's master declare full war, we would have lost. The hug had gone on longer than was polite, and I finally realized what part of the problem was. It was the most careful kiss I'd ever been given, and one of the most frustrating. I don't want to send my men in to die, Blake.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.