Sable

Archer’s golden, boy-next-door good looks are even more devastating in the oranges and purples of sunset. I have to work hard to focus on his words and not get lost in his brilliant green eyes that remind me of fresh cut grass. He’s taller than Ridge, though not by much, but his presence isn’t as imposing. He doesn’t loom like the other wolves. He doesn’t wear his beast as close to the surface.

Despite everything that’s happened, I’m drawn to him. It’s a stupid thing, really. I shouldn’t be drawn to him. I should be drawn to those damn woods and getting the hell away from this mess before...