I was also drinking bitter dirt.
Milky, bitter dirt.
Two more pumps of syrup went into the cup, and I glanced at the beans. They were the same. I’d made everything normally.
My latte had tasted wrong earlier, too.
The drink in my hand was slightly more palatable when I tasted it again, thanks to the sweeter vanilla flavor, but only slightly.
After a beat of hesitation, I added two more pumps, and tried another sip through the straw.
It was… fine.
After kissing Maverick, imitation vanilla just didn’t seem to be doing it for me. I wanted the real thing.
I screwed the lid back on my cup anyway and looked at Carter.
His grin was gone, and he was staring down into his mug of drinkable dirt. “She took a turn for the worse. We’re not sure how much time she has left.”
My chest squeezed. “I’m so sorry.” I put a hand on his arm.
“Thanks.” He put his hand over mine, pressing lightly.
I pulled my hand away and turned back to my coffee. “Is there anything I can?—”
Something slammed down on the counter beside me.
I jerked away, then gaped down at Carter’s head. It rested on the countertop, pinned beneath a very large, tattooed hand that was wrapped around his throat.
Carter’s dark brown eyes were bulging and duller than usual, his fingers grasping at the hand around his throat.
Holy fuck.
“Don’t, Mav.” I grabbed Maverick’s wrist, meeting a pair of furious, glowing green eyes.
“What did I just say?” he gritted out. “No one touches you.”
“I forgot. And I’m the one who touched him—on the arm, just as a friend—so you can’t kill him.” I tried not to panic.
How did someone talk a murderous werewolf off the edge?
I had no idea.
Yelling?
Tackling?
Kissing him?
I couldn’t see either of the first two things actually making a difference. And how was I possibly going to reach his mouth to kiss him when he was bent over Carter, threatening his life?
Rhone was nowhere to be seen, so he obviously didn’t give a damn if Maverick killed a random guy for touching me.
I needed to do something.
Fast.
“Drink this.” I shoved my cup toward Maverick, pushing the straw into his mouth. “Now.”
