Pruitt
“You mean like, what? Somehow that bite means that another wolf has control over now?” Griff asked as he rummaged through the bottom drawer, his rear on full display for his boyfriends.
“Damn, you are looking like you might be my breakfast this morning, love,” Uriah said. He winced as though expecting to react, but saw the werewolf was so mesmerized his jaw was hanging open. The vampire closed it, which snapped back to reality. “Sorry, I mean—um, well, all we know is that werewolves have different abilities, right?”
“Sure,” Griff said as he produced a Mystic Hollow University football t-shirt with ’s surname on it, pulling it over his slender figure. The shirt was baggy on him, but the visual was enough to melt everyone’s heart—’s, Uriah’s, and—somewhere in Crescent Ridge, Haven’s, too. “So, what’s that mean, then?”