Alpha Terrell's POV
The ride away from Hawkins' burning castle should have been triumphant. My warriors rode in formation around me. Smoke billowed into the sky behind us, a funeral pyre for a fool who'd dared to lie to my face.
I should have felt victorious.
Instead, every fiber of my being was focused on the soft, warm weight in my arms.
Angel lay unconscious across my lap, her head resting against my chest, her body tucked into the curve of my arm. The steady rhythm of my horse's gait jostled her slightly with each step, and I found myself constantly adjusting my hold to keep her secure.
To keep her comfortable.
When had I ever cared about someone's comfort?
