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Summary
“It would take more than a little drizzle to make me ill,” the voice continued, and Adam glanced up from the pages of his textbook with hesitance and dread in the pit of his stomach.
A wickedly sharp grin met him from across the locker room. Ronan Lynch was more wolf than boy. If you could even call him a boy — Ronan was 17 and had already filled out like a man. Adam slammed his book closed and shot to his feet.