Black Fang did not seem to mind sitting in his lap.
She shifted slightly, adjusting her posture until she was settled in a meditative pose, looking utterly calm and composed despite her ruinous appearance.
It was not that unusual for her. She seemed to lack some of the conventional boundaries most women carried, and she had no reason to push him away, Quinlan reasoned.
Truth be told, before she lost consciousness in his arms and before she had announced her return to wakefulness, she had already been paying close attention. She found no trace of lecherous touching, no signs of him trying to take advantage of her state.
He was not that kind of man, and because she knew this, she had nothing to worry about.
The moment her eyes closed, her presence seemed to undergo a drastic change.
A faint but undeniable aura pressed outward from her body. It was not anything mystical in the sense of casting a spell, but rather a quiet intensity.
