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“But the wind shifts, blowing their scents straight into my lungs. My blood turns to liquid fire. I choke on the scents clawing inside me. Leather. Smoke. Oranges. Cedar. The little mouse I’ve spent my life beating down perks up from her long hibernation. Wide awake, she sends my body into a fever, ready to claim what’s ours. Four alphas. Mine. My alphas.” — Lola Rock
But the wind shifts, blowing their scents straight into my lungs.
My blood turns to liquid fire.
I choke on the scents clawing inside me.
Leather. Smoke. Oranges. Cedar.
The little mouse I’ve spent my life beating down perks up from her long hibernation. Wide awake, she sends my body into a fever, ready to claim what’s ours.
Four alphas.
Mine.
My alphas.