“Who’s is this?” Shane asked, eying the dog warily. He wasn’t great with animals. “You dog-sitting for someone?” “No,” Ilya said, then bent to scoop the dog up in his arms. He cuddled her close to his chest, and the dog licked his cheek lovingly. “This is Anya. She is my dog.” “You—what? How?” “Someone abandoned her. In the cold. Monsters,” Ilya growled. Then he kissed the top of Anya’s head. “She needed a home. I needed a dog.”
