Page 160 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

I didn’t look away from my brother. “I would choose her life over their comfort.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“It is the only answer I have.”

Ronan stared at me as if he could still find the brother who had followed his orders into every dark room the pack required. I was still that man. That was the problem. I knew too well what obedience cost the person placed on the table.

Sava stepped between us before Ronan could answer.

“No,” she said.

Ronan’s gaze moved to her slowly. “No?”

“No. You are not having this argument in front of her, in this room, on the morning of the hunt, while she is naked under a sheet and your brother is two breaths away from putting you through a wall.”

Cassie said, “I’m not entirely naked.”

Sava didn’t look back. “That is not helping.”

“Noted.”

Sava pointed at Ronan. “You will leave for five minutes.”

Ronan’s expression could have frozen water. “This is my house.”

“And she is my patient. Leave, or I will start using words like rut, imprint stress, and preventable collapse in front of every guard in the hall.”

Ronan looked furious enough to argue.

Then his eyes moved to Cassie again. She sat straight-backed in the bed, sheet clutched under one arm, chin lifted, cheeks flushed with anger and no small amount of embarrassment. The bond carried too much from her for me to separate all of it. Fear. Defiance. The raw tenderness left from waking in my arms. The humiliation of being seen and discussed before she had even been given a robe.

Ronan saw enough.

His mouth tightened. “Five minutes.”

He left, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

Sava turned to me. “Bathroom. Shirt. Now.”

I didn’t move until Cassie spoke.

“Go,” she said, quieter now.

I turned enough to see her. Her eyes met mine. Angry, embarrassed, alive. Still with me.

So I went. When I came back in a clean shirt, Sava had helped Cassie into a robe and was taking her blood pressure with the expression of a woman prepared to murder everyone in the room by order of inconvenience.

Cassie looked at me. “You could have told me about the murder chorus earlier.”

“I should have.”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry.”

“I know.”

Her voice softened on that, and the bond warmed in a way that hurt.