“I know I fainted,” I reply calmly—which, considering the circumstances, I’m super proud of myself for.
He watches me intently, and I nod before continuing.
“So maybe I'm still unconscious.”
He doesn't answer.
“I could be in a coma.”
“Daria...”
“I've watched enoughGrey's Anatomyto know stranger things have happened.”
His lips twitch.
He's trying not to smile.
“Don't laugh at me!”
“I'm trying very hard not to.”
“Because if you laugh, I'm going to assume you've poisoned me.”
“What?How does that even make sense?”
“How do little boys turn into lethal predators?”
“Honey, I haven't poisoned you.”
“Have you drugged me?”
“No!When would I have drugged you?I didn’t even know you’d be there.”
“Maybe those kids slipped me some hallucinogenic mushrooms!I did drink the soda they brought me.”
“Was it in a can or closed bottle?”
“Would it have to be?”
“Daria, I don't even like mushrooms.”
I narrow my eyes.
“That was a suspicious answer,” I mumble.
Then a chuckle escapes him.
And, dear Lord, why is that sexy?
Even when I’m having a nervous breakdown, I still think the man has an incredible laugh.
Which is wildly inconvenient, considering he's trying to convince me Werewolves actually exist.
“Werewolves,” I repeat slowly.
“Yes.Or Wolf Shifters, if you prefer.”
“So, like...”I lift my hands into little claws.“Awooooo?”
