Where the Pack Ends
he growled, his voice dropping to a terrifying register.
Before he could push me away or roar, I grabbed his face in both of my hands, leaned in, and pressed my lips firmly against his.
Leonidas froze.
I pushed a sweet, dried moon-plum past his lips—a traditional trick used by lunar healers to wash away the foul taste of bitter roots. But I didn't pull back immediately. I let my mouth linger over his, tasting the sweetness of the fruit mixed with his fierce, intoxicating taste.
His shadow-wolf let out a low, deep rumble of pure satisfaction. His hands tightened around my hips, pulling me down until there was zero space left between us, his massive body burning hot against mine.
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