Page 142 of The SnowFang Storm

“That’s not why I was offering.” How did I say I didn’t want to lose a minute with him without reminding him of impending doom?

“I will feel better knowing you’re warm in bed, where you belong.”

“Wow. Okay there, Mr. Male.”

He smiled, showing me some teeth.

I pretended to huff.

“Now get into bed,” he teased, pushing me gently towards the hungry marshmallow, “and I will tuck you in.”

I let him feed me to the hungry marshmallow and tuck the blankets around me. “I am going to bite you later.”

He ducked and bit my lower lip gently. “I’m counting on it. I’ll be back in a few hours. I am going to wake you up. Perhaps with my mouth. Perhaps with my hands. Perhaps with something else you enjoy.”

“A tasty breakfast rabbit?”

He growled, kissed me a last time, and closed the bedroom door behind him.

Sterling’s bark shattered my sleep.

I threw off the covers and twisted into wolf form before I even hit the floor. I sprinted down the hallway. The door to the master bedroom at the other end of the hallway flung open, and Garrett appeared, smashing a switch in a hidden panel on the wall. Light flooded through all the windows.

The warning barks shook my bones. No specific translation into human speech: Immediate danger. Move. Move.

I half-fell down the hardwood steps as my paws slid, I tumbled, rolled on the floor, and jumped back up as howls undercut Sterling’s barks.

Hunting howls.

My hackles rose. The backdoor off the patio jangled and rattled.

I damn near slid into Sterling as I burst into the kitchen. The whole yard was awash with light from floodlights, but our view was obscured by light falling snow.

“We have company.” Sterling growled.

“Sterling!” Garrett’s voice shouted from above the stairs. “How bad is it?”

Sterling threw his head back and howled a warrior’s challenge.

Garrett wouldn’t need a translation for that. I heard him cursing. More footsteps.

“We are no one’s hunt,” I snarled to my mate.

“They would disagree.” Sterling’s fangs gleamed white in the brilliant light. “They are coming.”

“Who is they?”

“I don’t know. Not the local wolves. Different wolves.”

My silver wound throbbed. “FrostFur? AmberHowl? GranitePaw? SilverPaw?”

“All of those, perhaps?” He tossed his head.

“What about your parents?”

“There is a plan.”

The floodlights illuminated the trees enough I saw shadows moving.

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