Sanders lay on his back, looking up at the sky. They had enough eyes on the place to know whether a mouse broke cover. They didn’t need him watching too. Idly, he counted the stars but his attention wasn’t on the task. Instead, it was on Leon, lying less than ten feet away—that lean, hard body on the same dirt as him.
Sanders lifted his hands and studied them. They were large, with a wide palm and broad, blunt-tipped fingers. Working hands, his dad used to call them, before Sanders had joined up. Killing hands more like. Reaching inside, he opened the door between himself and his wolf, thinking about s*x and feeding the creature a bolt of pure lust. Not Richards. Even Sanders could see letting his change become dependent on someone—anyone else—was a disaster waiting to happen…but pure, ra
