But I’m thrown for another loop when Boz wraps a hand around the bottom of my dining chair and yanks it so I’m pressed to his side. His arm circles my shoulders right before he leans in to press his warm lips to my temple. He holds me tight to him when he settles back into his chair. “I’m not Damian or Nic, and I can handle my wife just fine, Edward. I answer to Alamandos, not you. You’re here because he can’t come across the border, and he wanted his sister’s input in the funeral. Landyn is mine now. You’ll never talk about my wife that way again.”
BARK BARK BARK
