Chapter 103

Christian’s green eyes bored straight into my face. His pupils dilated and the smell of his rage reached me effortlessly. The back of his muzzle trembled with the desire to show his teeth, but he didn’t. That offended him, it offended his sisters, and it offended the memory of his father. I wish I had cut out my tongue before saying it.

“Do you also think that I care little that Dad is dead?” he asked, slowly.

“No, Chris; listen—”

I anticipated that I would find myself rolling in the snow with another wolf in a few seconds, but—

Christian brought out his military discipline in all its splendor, and the provocation ran down his fur like rainwater. He opened his mouth and spoke again:

“I didn’t do it at first, Lai. I did not sleep. I had horrible nightmares. Because my father, the werewolf, teacher, and coolest friend I ever had, was dead,” he told me with complete seriousness, in a tone dangerously lacking in humor. “I’m better now, and do you know why?