‘We are flying?’ Raphael’s inner wolf, Vega hissed. It does not like flying much, especially flying to meet centuries old vampire.
Raphael’s private jet itself was flawless with sleek black exterior, leather seats that smelled faintly of cedar and money, and engines so smooth they purred like a satisfied predator. He sat comfortably with a tablet in hand, skimming reports, perfectly calm.
His wolf, however, was pacing in tight circles inside his head like an anxious dog trapped in an elevator.
‘Metal bird bad,’ the wolf muttered. ‘Too high. Too exposed. No ground to rip apart.’
Raphael took a slow sip of coffee. ‘Relax. We’re not dying today. We fly a lot, what are you so nervous about tonight?’
‘That’s what you said last time,’ the wolf replied darkly. ‘Then, we got attac
