“Hold the leather strap,” Kaan rumbles near my ear, sending tingles down the side of my neck and making my breath hitch. Snarling, I grip the damn strap. “You know what I hate?” “Being told what to do?” he answers, quick as a blink. “Exactly.” “Well,” he says, giving the strip of leather a yank, like he’s testing my grip on the thing. Something I find deeply offensive, seeing as I don’t do anything by halves. “It’s a relief to know you possess a drip of self-preservation.” “I’d rather possess that blade down the inside of your boot,” I grouse as the beast folds his wings flush against his
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