The way slopes downward steeply for about a mile and is rough-going, but the sound of the ocean waves upon the shore grows louder the further we descend. My calves burn when at last, we reach the end of the tunnel, emerging from a hidden crevice on a ledge in the bluff about five feet above the ground level.
Easy access for a six-foot-four, young, healthy Were with a penchant for womanizing in his teenaged years. Moodily, I flick a glance Sean's direction, surprised when both men suddenly stare at me over their shoulders. Their nostrils flare as they scent the air at the same time.
Dorian's brows draw together and he reaches back to lace his fingers with mine. "Sandy?"
"It's nothing." Easing between the two men, I avoid Sean's watchful eye.
"That's funny," he mutters, kneeling, then dropping lightly to the ground below. "Because it smells a lot like stupid-hot, pissed-off Fae female."
Well, he's not wrong.
