Rafe despised the fog.
There was something unnatural about it. It was more than the sinister light it emanated, more than the way it made the forest appear unfathomable and dangerous. This fog had presence in a way that fog should not.
It felt dirty against his skin.
It felt sentient, even malicious. He sensed it infiltrating his mind, turning his thoughts in directions they would never have gone of their own volition.
He distrusted it.
He resented its presence and did so with an intensity that was foreign to him.
No matter how he fought it, Rafe felt his mood move beyond frustration to a fury that was rare for him. He became angry at whoever had given him this assignment and resentful of the obstacles arrayed against him. He found himself angry at Delilah’s innocence, even though he
