I caught a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye. Eight shapeshifters slipped out of the woods and flanked me, with my husband popping up on my right like a jack-in-the-box. [...]
Curran grinned at me, his gray eyes happy. "Hey, baby. You come here often?"
I laughed.
"Your hand looks heavy. Let me hold it for you." He squeezed my hand with his warm fingers.
— Magic Claims, Ilona Andrews
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