Savage
she says.
“Petal, baby, I’m okay,” he says, holding her in his arms.
I turn and look at Reagan, frowning.
“Well, I guess the sprite’s out of the bag,” she murmurs.
“Wait, that’s ...” I turn and look at the woman. She’s small by werewolf standards, barely over five feet, which is considerably larger than the winged creatures I’d seen in the forest. And, she doesn’t have any wings at all.