“Ready for bed Little Love?” Donatello asked.
“Actually, I was hoping we could do this in order of your birth since, I started with Donatello.” I smiled softly at Renzo, my voice light, but underneath it was an unmistakable tension. My wolf stirred inside me, restless, urging me forward, but the fear of giving in to this bond still lingered at the edges of my mind.
Renzo’s lips curled into a knowing smile, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. “You have a way of making things interesting, Sweet Queen,” he murmured, his voice rich with warmth and curiosity. “But I don’t mind doing things in order. If that’s what you need.”
His words were comforting, a steady presence that grounded me, and I felt the weight of my own hesitation begin to lessen. After Donatello, I thought I could
