A limo idled at the very edge of the parking lot, drawing more than one curious look from shoppers blinking against rainy grey winter light. She’d taken out a chunk of the glass doors at one entrance, and Jack was glad nothing had cut her; he was holding onto the change and his beast with deathly, icy control.
Even his chilly analyst’s calm would break like sugarpane if she was so much as scratched.
scratchedShe wasn’t quite limping, but one of her boots had lost its entire sole. That would be attended to very soon, but the reminder of what she must have endured living among skins wasn’t guaranteed to keep him calm, either. A cluster of orange-aproned employees was busy cleaning up glittering broken door-shards at the other end of the lot, dwarfed by the store’s bulk. The skins babbled e
