Firefly Glen Take you like a drug;

Cole’s gaze remained fixed on her, a quiet amusement flickering in his eyes as he shook his head. Neither, he replied, voice steady. But I’ve become a pledge to Bearclaw Valley.

Watching her wipe at the blood smudges on her muzzle, he noted the small patch left on the bridge of her nose. After a pause, he rose to his feet and approached her, each step unhurried, respecting the space between them. When he was close enough, he leaned down, his own muzzle mere inches from hers, his voice dropping to a murmur.

You missed a spot, he said, a hint of warmth threading through the quiet words. His pale gaze lingered, steady and unwavering, before pulling back, allowing her the choice to close the space between them—or not.