Page 131 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

Ronan waited until the door closed. “Malrec is moving fast.”

Ian’s eyes stayed on the door. “He knows the hunt is not enough if we prepare.”

I leaned back in the chair, suddenly exhausted. “Glad my hallway performance provided counterintelligence.”

Ronan looked at me. “It did.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“It can be both.”

I closed my eyes and the corridor tilted a little. Ian was there before I opened them, crouched in front of my chair.

“Cassie.”

“I’m fine.”

His expression didn’t change.

“Fine adjacent,” I amended.

Sava came around the chair. “Training is done.”

“No,” Ronan said. “One more test.”

Ian’s head turned slowly.

Ronan met his glare. “Not distance. Choice.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“What choice?” I asked.

Ronan looked at the three doors. “We need to know whether you can separate him from another wolf, or if that was just a fluke.”

My stomach tightened.

Sava shook her head. “Not today.”

“Yes,” I said.

Ian looked at me. “No.”

I leaned forward enough that Sava made an unhappy sound. “If Malrec sent a guard to find out what we can do, then we need to find out first.”

“I do not want another wolf near you.”

“That is not the same as me being unable to handle one standing behind a door.”

The mark snapped warm with his objection. Mine answered with anger. The two feelings met in the middle so sharply I lost my breath. For one second, the corridor became only his face, my pulse, and the strange shared heat of two people realizing anger had brought them closer instead of farther apart.

I sat back and Ian looked away.

Good. Fine. Excellent. This was all medically horrifying.

Ronan, because he was Ronan, noticed everything and chose the worst possible moment to be practical.

“Lucien,” he said. “Get Cormac.”