The rogue’s muscles bulged, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “You don’t belong here, little princess,” he snarled, with a conviction that seemed to come from his very soul, in much the same way as Chrystal’s declaration had been formed.
Chrystal’s heart sank even as her mind picked up. The Luna, the peacemaker, the mother, was not done.
These are rogues; they are not civilized. Talking won’t do anything here! She reflected as somehow her feet came up her and she rose slowly, her chest constricting with fear and determination.
No. I am the daughter of Mason Barone! I will not cower. I cannot! Even if I die, I will do so standing, she swore to herself.
Then, she sensed him before her eyes registered anything, the heat from his skin warming her chilled body, before her head turne
