He thought he was stopping for a stray dog in the snow-until he saw what she was hiding beneath her body

teeth. She did not need to. Her body remembered him. So did his.

“Get that mutt back,” Crowley snapped.

Cal’s voice lowered. “Step off my porch.”

Crowley laughed once, brittle and sharp, and put one boot over the threshold.

Scout moved first.

She did not lunge. She simply placed herself in front of the opening, a narrow, scarred body between Crowley and continue reading …