When We Are Older
Therefore, I intend on ignoring the mate-bond, regardless of how painful it might be.
“Maybe...” I mumble.
John stands up without warning, and I watch him brush the dirt from his sweatpants.
“You might not recognize me in my angel form,” I watch him stretch his arms, taken by his beauty. “Are you coming?”
I’m about to take his hand when I suddenly remember that scary part about Amy’s plan, something about shoving a blade into my leg.
Shivering, I shake my head at John. “Nah. I might stay here. The ground is nice and friendly, and there aren’t any crazy girlfriends with knives here, only the wind,”
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