Brithany Martinez

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“Ariana,” I said, “I thought . . .” “That I had retreated to the reservation with my kin?” she asked. “My mate is here. I am no follower, and my allegiance is no longer to the Gray Lords, if it ever was. They chose to allow me to stay here under the condition I do nothing to draw attention to myself.” She grinned mischievously at me.
Frost Burned (Mercy Thompson, #7)
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