Kiss of Snow

She did, too. “What about me?” she asked. “Do I take your last name since we’re mated?”



“Do you want to?” A tilt of his head, the wolf watchful but not demanding.



She considered the question with care, thinking of who she’d been, who she was now. “Yes,” she said at last, “but I’d like to keep mine, too.” As with Hawke, the past was gone, but it had left an indelible mark, could not be forgotten. “It’s a part of me.”



Lips against her own, a wolf’s kiss. “That works fine for me . . . Sienna Lauren Snow.”