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Summary
He’d felt it even in the chaos. The way Ivan’s black eyes with their molten red cores had caught him through the blizzard, the glint of a rosary and gold traced amice. He hadn’t hesitated to kill the others, vampire guards the clan considered filthy—clean, surgical, almost merciful. But when Ivan turned to Till, his stole wafting in the wintery wind, something had stopped him.
What Malryn Till felt for a wolf disguised priest hunter could not be explained.
