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The fingertips of my left hand danced as the silver scar rattled.

Marcella stepped alongside Searle as well, and said, with atinyshred of compassion, “Especially when you’ve been waiting and reality conflicts with hope.”

“Yes, Luna.” Searle inclined his head respectfully to acknowledge Marcella’s statement.

Demetrius reached behind Searle to take Marcella’s hand. “Welcome to AmberHowl, Summer.”

All My Crayons, Spilled

Searle and I eyed each other like wolves on a very narrow path.

Searle gave me another look-over. He was good looking, with broad features that matched his shoulders and hands. He took up space in the room in a looming, glowering sort of way, like he was a suit of armor ominously positioned in the corner. When Sterling held still, Sterling always seemed to be matching his prey step for step, or collecting himself, ready to spring or react at any moment.

Searle was completely still and stoic. A patient, still predator waiting in the bushes, blending in with his surroundings, both completely present and deceptively non-threatening. Which made himextremelythreatening, since he did not telegraph a single clue as to what he was thinking. Or if he was thinking anything at all.

When he closed the distance between us, his movements were fluid, guarded, and extremely precise. He twisted one of the other chairs around and sat in it in one smooth, exacting movement. Nothing wasted. Functional. Economical. What made it elegant was the exactlackof any showmanship or elegance.

He leaned forward at the hips, his hands clasped together in a bundle of fingers and palms that would have made tree roots jealous, and studied me. His eyes were brown, but when the light hit them, washed to amber. His hair was the same: it washed to several shades of amber when hit by the light.

If he had something to say, he could say it. My brain was too absorbed with trying to process thatthiswolf was my new... partner.

“Summer,” Searle said. His voice was shocking: low and very quiet.

“Searle,” I managed to squeeze out of my tangled throat. Saying his name didn’t make this feel less like a nightmare.

What kind of mindless pleasantries were we supposed to engage in, exactly? He didn’t strike me as a wolf who had a lot of different shades to his emotions. His box of emotional crayons were the basics. The good old sixteen colors stand by. Maybe he broke out the twenty-four box if the situation called for it. But nowhere close to the classic holy grail of the sixty-four box that was the tree topper on the start of any school year. Searle was the kind of wolf who would say nobody needed the sixty-four box.

The earlier frustration I’d caught from him had transitioned to a disconcerting, forceful acceptance.

What color crayon was that? TheI can make this workshade?

If he thought I was going to talk first, he was wrong. Someone had tossed all my crayons on the floor.

“The Alpha and Luna have told you our story?” he asked, finally.

His voice was so damnsoftand quiet. “Yes, but they’ve left out details. Things I wouldn’t know.”

He nodded once. He didn’t seem to blink. “I’m the junior First Beta.”

“I’ve met Henri before.”

Searle still barely seemed to move. “Demetrius and Marcella tell me you’re sharp, knowfartoo much, have a tendency to get into places nobody thinks you’d fit, and you were a Solstice Hound. Twice.”

Well, once again, my would-be mate knew more about me than I knew about him. Some things didn’t change. “That’s how I ended up here. Your Alpha and Luna underestimated my hunting prowess.”

AndI’dover-estimated my hunting prowess. Oh, I should have left that shack in Alaska when my instincts had told meget out. If I’d left five minutes sooner...

Guilt made my silver scar throb, and the pain seared into my bone. I clasped my hand over it and grit my teeth as my fingers danced like I was playing the world’s smallest piano. The pain traveled up my arm and wrapped around my collarbone and into my neck.

Searle watched, unmoving, while I waited for the spasm to ease.

I took deep breaths as it started to pass and schooled my thoughts into nothing. Sterling had warned me that the memories fused with the scar would trigger the nerves. I tried to name all the shades of green in the big box.

“YourAlpha and Luna.” He corrected with soft authority that probably had an effect on a vast number of wolves.

Hand still over my arm and my skin clammy while electric shocks sparked on my fingertips, and he wanted to argue details of protocol we both knew were bullshit? He had just dropped their titles three minutes earlier.

“Say it,” he said softly.

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