Page 104 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“No.”

“He is coming toward her.”

“He is human.”

“He is a threat.”

“He is not as bad as the threat in your hand.”

Ian looked down. His claws had come through. The torn fabric from Brenner’s uniform was still clenched in his fist.

“Ian.” His name came out sharper than I intended.

He stopped, actually, everything in him stopped.

That power terrified me, but it also told me something important. My voice reached him, because some part of him was listening for me now, choosing to hear me through the wolf’s noise.

He looked at me. Gold eyes. Human grief. Wolf certainty.

“Do not make Grant important,” I said.

The words landed exactly where they needed to and his claws withdrew slowly.

Ronan watched him do it with an expression I could not read.

“Grant wants to be important,” I said. “That is the entire engine of the man. If you tear through a hedge over him, he wins a prize he does not understand but will absolutely attempt to display.”

Lucien’s phone buzzed.

He read the message. “Staff have stopped Mr. Carrington. He is asking to speak with me directly.”

Ronan looked at me. “Do you want the letter?”

Ian’s head turned toward him. So did mine. That was the first time Ronan had asked what I wanted before deciding whether I was allowed to want it.

It was probably strategic…I took the win anyway.

“Yes,” I said.

Ian’s face tightened.

I looked at him. “I said the letter. Not the man.”

“I know.”

“You are thinking loudly again.”

“I know.”

That almost-smile threatened me for half a second and vanished under the weight of the day.

Ronan nodded to Lucien. “Take it. Do not let Carrington past the west gate. If he resists, embarrass him with witnesses, not injuries.”

Lucien inclined his head. “Efficient.”

He left.

Ian stood beside my chair, and I looked up at him.