Then there was Kazimir. Of all the Nighthounds, he showed the most interest in me. Always watching. Always waiting. Always the first to help. Respectful, and yet I sensed there was something more behind his attention. His steady presence was almost comforting and his smoky wood and amber scent familiar. I had been glad to ride on my own, but a small part of me missed the warmth of his large frame at my back, encircling me in a wall of safety.
