“Hold my chicken.” “Rooster,” Xander corrects, accepting the black bird. I scowl at my pack-brother because he can take his private school education and shove it up his big dragon ass. “His name is Eugene,” I snap. Patting said chicken on his red head-frills, I turn back to the trembling cashier of the Opal Feather. The sight of us always makes these humans piss their pants. A dragon, a wolf and a shark walk into a luxury store and, well…they all know what comes next, I suppose.
