Frozen on Fire
“I am real, Milo. I am very, very real.”
“No, you’re in my dream. You’re just a woman I made up,” the wolf growled low and deep and the throbbing in his wrist intensified.
“What more must Destroyer and I have to do to convince you that we are real?”
“Destroyer? What the hell kind of name is ‘destroyer’? That has got to be something I made up,” he argued, even as he readjusted her so that he pulled her coat back a little, revealing a thick embroidered bodice and pushed up breasts that, even when blue with cold, pulled at his attention. He licked his lips. Because of the cold.
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