Five weeks ago, if someone would have told Kael Ashenvale that the most dangerous thing in the world was a wolf princess with no sense of self-preservation, he would have laughed.
He wasn't fucking laughing now. He was sitting six feet away doing math on how fast he could lunge if she so much as sneezed towards the door.
The chair was six feet away. Six feet was too far.
Guinevere Lunaris specialized in wandering into shitstorms unless three things were true: he was there, she was within arm's length, and he wasn't currently out cold.
Every single time this woman left his arm's reach, she fucking vanished. In his arms she stayed put. The only exceptions were the two times he'd been knocked out and halfway to a decision he had zero input on.
