The wolf let out a low, delighted chuff, clearly pleased with himself. He nudged Liora with his snout and curled slightly around her side in an almost protective gesture, resting his heavy head on her hip.
Liora looked down at him, the laughter in her eyes softening into something deeper—curiosity, affection, something like awe. Slowly, she ran her fingers between his ears.
"You really are beautiful," she whispered.
The wolf gave a low, rumbling sigh and closed his eyes. He'd gotten what he wanted—not just her touch, but her acceptance.
But it wasn't enough . . .
He licked her face once again.
As expected, she cried out, "Ew! Stop that!" and scrubbed her cheek with her sleeve, trying to erase his slobber.
Instead of feeling rejected, Lyander's wolf found her reaction adorable—irresistibly so. So, naturally, he did it again, tongue swiping out with wicked intent.
