HIS EYEBROWS—THICK, expressive—dropped so low I could almost see him kicking himself. If, you know, that was a physical possibility.
Well, other than your shin. You could probably kick your opposite shin. Or maybe your arm if you leaned way over....
“That was inappropriate, wasn’t it?” Ryder asked, his voice a deep rumble. “I’ve been told I’m often inappropriate.”
I needed to check on Aiti, but I couldn’t bear to let Ryder stay so crestfallen. “You weren’t inappropriate,” I reassured him, fingering the locket that was a surefire way to get in touch with my mother. “I just need to pee.”
His eyebrows winged back up. “You know we can smell lies. And porta potties. That place stinks worse than the hind end of a chili-eating contest.”
We could smell lies? Did he mean werewolves? I hadn’t b
