Page 248 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“You remain bleeding,” Sava said. “Do not start.”

The east dining room looked as if a wealthy family should be having a rehearsal brunch inside it. White walls. Dark beams. Long polished table. Vases of flowers that had survived the morning by being uninvolved. Someone had already pulled the curtains, and two wolves stood outside the doors.

A very young wolf brought Ian clothes without making eye contact. Ian disappeared into a side pantry and came back in black pants and a dark sweater that stretched across his shoulders in a way my mother very carefully didn’t notice.

Aunt Linda noticed. Tessa noticed Aunt Linda noticing and choked on a hysterical laugh.

Dad noticed all of us noticing and pointed at the table. “Everyone sit down.”

Ronan, who had given actual Alpha commands in a courtyard full of blood, seemed oddly willing to let my father organize chairs.

Maybe he was tired. Maybe he recognized that a human father with a champagne bottle and unanswered questions was its own kind of Alpha problem.

Sava pushed me into a chair, then began treating me in front of everyone because apparently dignity had not survived the courtyard.

“Do we have to do this here?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“My family is watching.”

“They saw wolves eat people today.”

“That is a strong point.”

Ian crouched beside my chair, one hand resting on the back of it, close enough that I felt him through the bond even when he didn’t touch me. He looked calmer now, not healed yet, but present.

Every once in a while, the bond tightened with the ghost of what he had almost done. Every time, I pressed my fingers against his. Every time, he came back.

Ronan stood at the head of the table.

He had changed his coat, but there was still blood at his collar.

“Here are the rules,” he said.

My father muttered, “Finally.”

I elbowed him lightly. It hurt me more than him.

Ronan continued. “No one in this room speaks about what happened here to anyone outside this room without my approval.”

Dad leaned forward. “You mean ever?”

“Yes.”

“That is not reasonable.”

Ronan looked at him. “Neither are werewolves. Yet here we are.”

Aunt Linda lifted one finger. “Do vampires exist?”

“No,” Ronan said.

Cormac, from the other end of the table where Sava had forced him into a chair, said, “Mostly no.”

Ronan turned his head.

Cormac looked innocent. “What? Accuracy matters.”