“Pay attention!” Rhiannon yells, drawing back her staff. “I could have… Oh.” Clearly, she sees what I do, what nearly every other woman—and several of the men—are happily watching. How can we not when the two of them are mesmerizing? Garrick’s wider, more densely packed with muscle than Xaden, his rebellion relic only extending to his shoulder, the second largest I’ve seen. Only Xaden’s reaches his carved jawline. “That is…” Rhiannon murmurs beside me. “It sure is,” I agree. “Stop objectifying our wingleader,” Liam teases. “Is that what we’re doing?” Rhiannon asks, not bothering to look away.
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