Seventeen years young and he drew his first blood for me. Sixteen years had passed since then, but I’d never lost that primal feeling of safety whenever he was close. It’s why I woke with a smile on my face, despite knowing he hadn’t entered my room alone. That and his hot lips at my throat. “I brought you something.” Someone. My sweet boy. Of course he’d brought me Locke. The bed dipped either side of me, Nash at my back, Locke in front of me, his green eyes sparkling in the dark.
