Page 94 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

Finally.

A practical question no one could call emotional instability.

I looked at Ronan. “You said humans cannot know about you. You own this resort. You run ceremonies behind hedges and gates and signs and security. So how did a six-pound dog with floral collar energy get from my sister’s chair to your secret wolf lawn?”

Sava looked at Ronan, Ian did too, but Ronan’s expression didn’t change. Something behind it did though.

At last, I thought.

“Henry slipped his leash,” Ronan said.

“No. Henry dragged his leash. I saw it behind him. It was still attached when I found him. It got wrapped around one of your ritual posts after he went through the hedge.”

Ronan’s gaze stayed on me. “The gate was open?”

“Open enough for a dog. Open enough for me.”

“Which gate?”

“The one with the authorized staff sign, because apparently I committed trespassing with excellent reading comprehension.”

Ronan looked toward the door. “Sava, get her into bed.”

“I am not done,” I said.

“No,” Ronan said. “But you are pale enough to fall out of that chair, and I need answers you cannot give me unconscious.”

That was infuriatingly sensible.

Sava helped me stand. Ian moved close enough to offer his arm, but waited for me to take it. I did, because I wanted to make it to the bed more than I wanted to prove a point with carpet burns. When I reached the bed, Ian helped lower me onto the mattress and released me the instant my weight was supported. His restraint came so quickly now that it felt practiced around my rules.

My rules. A thin, unwanted warmth opened in my chest.

Sava tucked the blanket around my legs. “Do not smile like that.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You were thinking about smiling. It was medically reckless.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m going to fire my doctor.”

“You cannot. You are in werewolf prison.”

I opened my eyes and Sava looked at me. For the first time, I saw humor in her face. Small, dry and real.

Then Ronan ruined another almost-human moment by opening the door and speaking to the guard outside.

“Bring Lucien. Quietly.”

Ian went still beside the bed.

I looked at Ronan. “You didn’t know about the gate.”

“No.”

“Luxury resort loses control of one gate and a Maltese starts an international incident. That feels embarrassing.”

Ronan’s gaze cut to me.