Too comfortable. Too familiar, he thought. Way too good. He held on to her anyway. And even as he did, he wished he could take back what he’d said to her on that sidewalk. About her being his. Because that wasn’t true. He didn’t want to take her as his shellan. He’d been worked up, jealous. Picturing that cop’s hands all over her. Pissed off that he hadn’t killed the human after all. The words had slipped out.
