Page 127 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“Less cover,” Ian said.

“For attackers, yes.”

“For her too.”

Ronan looked at him. “She is not hiding from you.”

Ian’s face went very still. I felt that one. His objection came through before he spoke, not as a word, but as pressure. The hunt was supposed to prove he could find me. If the course gave me nowhere to hide, they would say the proof was thin.

I set down the spoon.

“I need cover,” I said.

Ronan looked at me. I hated when he did that. Ronan’s stare had a way of making a person feel considered in parts.

“No,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You are injured.”

“I’m also being tested.”

“You are being kept alive.”

“Then keep me alive in a way that counts.”

Ian’s gaze cut to me and the mark warmed again. This time I understood the shape of it better.

Respect. Fear. Something lower beneath both, buried quickly.

Not now, I told my body. My body, historically, had not responded well to committees.

Ronan leaned one hand on the table. “If the course includes heavy cover, I cannot guarantee no outside wolf reaches you before Ian does.”

Ian’s voice dropped. “No outside wolf reaches her.”

Ronan didn’t look at him. “That is the point of requiring a course I can control.”

“I need enough cover that finding me means something,” I said.

Ronan’s attention returned to me.

“Fine,” he said. “Partial cover. Inner north ground, west grove, no ravine, no dock line, no outer wall. You will have markers and a boundary. If you cross the boundary, the hunt fails.”

“What happens if I cross the boundary because someone tries to kill me?”

“Then I kill them first and argue law afterward.”

That was probably the closest Ronan got to reassurance.

I accepted it with the grace available. “Good to know there’s a customer service process.”

Lucien looked down at the floor. Ian didn’t. He was watching Ronan now.

“What about Thorne witnesses?” he asked.

“One outside the field. No armed escort on the course.”