The Tyrant alpha
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I drag it in with the night air, and my muscles tingle.
We’re riding with the top down, or I’m not gonna make it all the way to Chapel Bell.
The moon is waning, and it hangs above the tree line like a giant glowing hook, set off by the last golden orange streaks of sunset.
Una lifts her face to the night sky. Her braid hangs down her back, thick and inviting. I grab it. She doesn’t startle. She glances over at me, lips curving, and then she closes her eyes again, letting the cool wind bathe her face.
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