She buried her nose in it for a moment, breathing in his scent. No one had ever treated her the way he had the night before. No one other than her sire or mother, and they were both dead. She refused to think of her littermates right now. They had to be safe. She wouldn’t have the strength to get through the day if she believed otherwise. Magda inhaled again, filling her lungs with the masculine, compelling scent laced through the sleeping bag. It was enticing, too. A temptation she didn’t need. If Ayden hadn’t left the night before when he had, she wasn’t sure what she might have done. When he’d sprawled out along the fire, he’d been inches from her. Fool that she was, she hadn’t moved. Ayden was a deadly creature. Every muscle in his body—and she’d stared at all of them by the end of the night—was proof of how dangerous he was. Why did danger turn her on? It never had before. She always had the sense to run when her life depended on it. Granted he’d brought her food, made a fire for her, and left her with clothes and a sleeping bag.
