Where Wild Things Roam
That’s when her startling green-gold eyes fall on Ellie and me, and though I’m retired, my alpha instinct tells me there’s a whole lot more to Darby than a nice figure and a pretty face.
It’s her eyes.
Or rather what’s in them—something expansive, depthless, and decidedly old. Not merely an old soul, but an ancient one. I can’t stop staring, even when Ian turns, beaconing his mother and me forward, even when Ellie tugs on my collar and calls my name. She can’t be…
“Dad! If you’re going to stare at my mate like that, it better be coming with a challenge.”
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