CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Henry is in the center of a giggling cyclone of she-wolves, his golden hair catching the flicker of the bonfire. His eyes are wide, the color of a clear winter sky, and he's grinning like he can't believe his luck. And honestly, neither can I. But as the she-wolves vie for his attention, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the fire, my nerves start to unwind like the frayed ends of a rope.
"Looks like Henry's got his hands full," Logan says beside me, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate right through my bones.
I turn to him, taking in his tousled brown hair and the warm depths of his brown eyes. They hold a playful glint that makes something flutter in my chest. "Yeah, he does," I agree, my lips tugging into an involuntary smile.
"Care to dance?" Logan
