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Tracker, he called hi tio to take care of herself She’d be dead, or in prison, or in a mental hospital if she hadn’t And yet, to surrender, if only once, to this th and protectiveness was

Peaceful Astonishing A taste of happiness

Spike opened his eyes, liquid brown in the diy, but perfectly alert

"Hey," he said He brushed back Myka’s unta"

"Now I know you’re crazy"

"You’re all ru love with me That irls" Myka said it teasingly, but a sudden pain laced her heart

He brushed back her hair again, fingertips light "Haven’t been that irls Not in my lifetime"

Hard to believe Spike didn’t have conventional man-prettiness, but he was sexy Hard body, hard face, eyes that could be hot with fighting rage or warm and dark, like they were now And his tatts Myka had never been attracted to heavily tattooed on that spread across his back was graceful and beautiful, the jaguars on arms and chest as fluid The tattoos moved with him, perfectly balanced, a part of him, not just ink on skin

"Shifter feround," Spike said, his voice quiet "Most are looking for ain his clan, not a tracker who has to answer to others and puts his life in danger every day" He shrugged "They can afford to be choosy"

Meaning they wouldn’t choose hiry when he said it, or sad Just resigned

Myka re--Duhter, that’s Spike

"If all they see is a du his face "Then they aren’t looking"

He stiffened "Don’t do that"

Myka stilled "Don’t do what?"