He quirked a brow. “What the hell are you playing at, anyway?”She lifted her chin. “Camouflage.”“Deus, woman.” His gaze raked down her body. They were in a bar full of shifters one inch away from a full-out brawl, but damn if that hot, dark look didn’t send a thrill shooting straight to her womb. “If that’s camouflage, then I’m king of the faeries.
Rebecca Rivard, Tempting the Dryad
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