His enthusiasm was infectious. She bared her teeth in a wide grin, then whooped, adding her voice to the cacophony.
Niice.
She hopped up his side, gripping ridges of hard muscle and bony growths so she could throw one leg over his other shoulder. A spike of bone scratched her upper thigh, beneath her skirt, but she didn’t care. It was nothing.
Ow.
Also, I never really pictured Rachel as the type to wear skirts for some reason. Fair enough.
“Go, Bentley!” She urged him. He surged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
So what are we doing? Claiming territory? Chasing Fenrir’s Chosen out of it?
I don’t remember if it’s been stated yet, but I have no doubt Rachel will be dealing with Fenrir’s Chosen like Taylor had to deal with the Merchants. Hookwolf is just too perfect as a rival to Rachel for that not to be the case.
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