WE LAY ON THE BANK at the edge of the lake until the light started to fade. Reid’s eyelids were half closed and he seemed about ready to pass out, but I knew he was still alert to our surroundings.
If he’d been in wolf form, his ears would have flickered at the sound of every leaf rustling, every twig snapping. His fur would’ve been tufted up, standing on end.
I trailed my hand down his bare skin and goosebumps appeared where my fingers had been.
He groaned. One eye blinked open, staring at me. Gray eyes, fringed with dark lashes. No silver, now that he was sated.
They changed like the weather, Reid’s eyes. When he was angry, they swirled like a storm, and they grew pale and still when he was sad, or deep in thought. Right now, they were calm. The color of woodsmoke.
I loved his eyes.
