I had no idea how I got talked into this.
The second I felt my legs swing over Fenric, Rowan's Lycan, I knew I'd made a terrible decision. He was huge, warm, and coiled with raw muscle under his pale fur. His fur was softer than I expected, like silk threaded through my fingers, but that did nothing to stop the holy crap what am I doing alarm screaming in my brain.
"Alright," Calla said, already climbing onto Dante's Lycan form with far too much confidence. "Hold tight. Seriously, Maeve. Hold tight."
Fenric shifted beneath me like he was testing my grip, and I immediately buried my fingers deeper into his fur, clutching it like my life depended on it. Which, let's face it, it probably did.
"Uh," I said nervously. "What if I fall?"
"You won't," Calla said. "Fenric's smoother than he looks. Ready?"
"No—"
"Too bad!"
And then we were moving.
Not just moving. Flying.
